The tension in the Nightshade pack was thick enough to cut with a knife. The news of Killian’s escape spread like wildfire, and whispers of betrayal echoed through the packhouse. Warriors who had once stood confidently now exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of distrust settling heavily on everyone’s shoulders. Somewhere within their ranks, a traitor lurked—someone who had freed Killian from the dungeon, opening the door for chaos to descend upon them once more.
Amara stood on the steps of the packhouse, watching as the warriors moved with purpose across the grounds, each of them tense and on edge. They were preparing for war, but there was a different kind of fear in the air now. This wasn’t just about defending their home from an outside threat—it was about looking inward, questioning
