The moon hung high and pale above Moonshadow territory, its light washed thin by the smoke still lingering from the Grove. The pack was quieter these nights—too quiet. Even the howls sounded subdued, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Bella stood on the ramparts, wind tugging at her hair. Below her, the courtyard gleamed with new defenses—freshly laid traps, sharpened stakes, silver-tipped arrows glinting in the moonlight. It should have made her feel safe. It ...