(Catherine POV)
I was sitting by the fireplace in my chambers, Mother's letter folded and refolded in my lap until the creases threatened to tear the paper entirely, when the first howl shattered the evening's deceptive peace. Not the musical calls I'd grown accustomed to hearing from Kieran's pack—this was different. Sharper, carrying notes of challenge and barely contained violence that made my skin crawl with instinctive dread.
The sound was answered immediately by another howl, then another, until the air filled with a chorus that spoke of coordination rather than mere animal communication. Hunting calls, I realized with growing alarm. The kind of sounds predators made when they'd found prey worth pursuing.
Then came the crash.
The sound of the outer gates giving way under assault
