** Ryder’s POV **

The quiet after everyone leaves feels heavier than it should. The rain outside has slowed to a drizzle, barely making a sound against the windows. Outside, I can hear the buzz of pack life returning to normal. It’s strange how the world keeps moving when you’ve just balanced on the edge of death.

That’s the truth of it, though. If I’d died last night, the pack would have mourned, maybe lit a fire in my name, shared stories for a week or two. Then life would’ve ...