Mason

I stand in the center of the pack's meeting hall, the heavy gaze of the Elders pressing down on me like the oppressive weight of unseen chains. The walls, usually thrumming with the life and warmth of my pack, now feel cold and judgmental. I can almost hear the whispers of the ancient timber groaning with secrets as Elder Narny steps forward, her presence slicing through the palpable tension.

"Alpha Roseman," she begins, voice firm and unyielding, a sharpened blade to my ...