Heather's POV
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The horn cut through the forest like a blade, deep and mournful. A warning from the scouts. They had seen the Reapers approaching.
Not a swarm. Not yet. But enough to tell us the time for plans and predictions had passed.
I stood on the edge of the eastern ridge, wind biting into my skin, watching the shadows move through the trees. My black wolf stirred within me, a slow growl rumbling beneath my ribs. She was awake, alert, and ready.
Behind me, warriors assembled into formation. Black Fang and Bloodmoon, together. No longer separate packs, but one. Our unity was untested—fresh, raw, and fragile. But I saw the way they looked at me now. Not with pity. Not even reverence. With trust.
That trust terrified me more than the Reapers did.
Ronan passed me on his
