Raiden’s POV
The arena falls silent as Windhowl’s pack steps forward. The sound of their boots hitting the stone floor echoes in the stillness, each step deliberate and steady.
The sunlight streams down from on high, glinting off medals pinned to their chests. But it’s not the medals that catch my attention—it’s the scars. The stories etched into their skin.
These aren’t ordinary wolves. They’re fighters, survivors. Some of them wear their battles in the absence of a limb, others in the way they move—slower, more measured, but no less dangerous.
She was smart to do this. She has shown purpose, stafgety and experience. Something that teh fires of youth can never match, not until age too has ravaged their bones.
I lean back in my seat among the Alpha judges, crossing m
