The aftermath settles over Volcano Valley like dust after a storm.

I watch from the edge of the courtyard as pack members move with quiet efficiency, clearing debris, tending to the wounded, restoring order to chaos. The scent of blood still lingers in the air—copper and iron, mixed with the sharper tang of adrenaline slowly fading.

Kenneth guides the visiting Alphas toward the packhouse, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of diplomacy with practiced ease. Owen walks ...