Isla’s POV
The Silverfang mansion rose from the mountains like something carved out of myth. Stone walls layered with frost-veined marble stretched upward, crowned by tall windows that reflected the moon even before night had fully settled. The gates opened silently as our car passed through, iron wrought with ancient symbols of the pack’s lineage. Pines surrounded the estate on all sides, their shadows long and watchful, whispering secrets in the cold mountain wind. This place did not feel like a home. It felt like a witness. One that had watched generations rise and fall and would remember every mistake made within its walls.
Chase walked beside me through the entrance hall, his steps steady, familiar. The sound of our shoes echoed across the polished stone floor, bouncing off high cei
