Nyx
The knock comes just before dawn. Three sharp raps that echo through the packhouse halls like a warning. Kaelen’s father doesn’t wait for permission. He pushes the door open and steps inside, flanked by two enforcers and a man I haven’t seen since I was a child.
At first, I don’t recognize him. His shoulders have bowed with age since he handed over his title to Orion. His once-black hair gone to silver, his scent faded with time. But his eyes, those pale, glacial eyes, are the same. It’s shocking what the power of the title can do for a wolf.
“Grandfather,” I breathe, the word foreign on my tongue. He inclines his head stiffly, setting a briefcase on the table between us.
“Nyx.” He sighs deeply. Kaelen appears at my side in seconds, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, tension radiating
