The hallway leading to the Alpha’s office was cloaked in an unnerving quiet. The hum of voices from the breakfast hall faded behind them, replaced by the sharp echo of footsteps on polished wood. Faint candlelight flickered along the walls, dancing against the silver-edged crest of the Silverblade Pack that gleamed on every pillar.
Roselyn’s pulse thudded softly beneath her skin. Calvin’s hand remained entwined with hers, grounding her. One gentle squeeze — a silent promise. Whatever awaited beyond that door, they would face it together.
At the far end of the corridor loomed a heavy oak door carved with the Silverblade insignia — a crescent moon cleaved by a blade. Michael pushed it open, and the scent of parchment, pine resin, and dominance spilled into the air like something alive. Sun
