Isla’s POV
Silverfang Pack territory did not welcome quietly. It never had. The moment our jet touched down and the doors opened, sound rushed in like a living thing. Music. Cheers. Drums echoing across the stone landing strip carved into the mountainside. Banners bearing the Silverfang crest fluttered in the cold wind, silver thread catching sunlight like sharpened stars. Wolves filled the open space beyond the barriers, layered in ranks that spoke of power and hierarchy. Elders stood near the front. Alpha families flanked them, dressed in ceremonial colors. Behind them were pack members, warriors, servants, supporters, all gathered to witness the return of their Alpha and his bride.
Their bride.
Me.
The air smelled of pine, snow, and iron. The land itself felt heavier than the island
