Heather’s POV
The clash was thunder, the air heavy with the metallic sting of blood and rage.
I launched into the fray, my black wolf weaving through the chaos like a phantom. Claws tore, teeth snapped. My pack fought with coordinated grace, strength drawn not just from me, but from the years of pain we had all survived to get here.
A rogue lunged for a pup too slow to flee. I intercepted mid-air, my jaws crushing his spine before he hit the ground.
“Protect the young!” I ordered through the link, hearing Vessa’s howl in response.
Somewhere behind me, I felt Darrian. His presence thundered like a second heartbeat, our bond pulsing with every life we took, every soul we fought to protect. We didn’t speak, but our wolves moved in tandem—mirrors of power and fury.
But there was no sign
