The night was heavy with fog. It clung to the trees like a living thing, swallowing sound, swallowing light. The Moonshadow borders were never this quiet—not even in winter—but tonight, even the crickets had stilled.

Bella stood on the veranda of the Alpha’s house, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach. The moon hung low, its glow pale and uncertain, like it too feared what was coming.

Alfred had gone to meet with the scouts. The reports had grown stranger by the hour—wolves ...