Damon’s POV

Peace returns slowly to the packs.

I watch Aria shape a new horseshoe. She glances up, and we share that familiar look — the one carved from apology and defiance, from shared grief and stubborn hope. A private vow: We’re still here. We’re still holding this together.

“You’re burning daylight,” I murmur, half teasing, half trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Her chin lifts. “Daylight’s for work,” she says simply. Strong. Certain. The old fear that once ...