The Smith family had not slept. Not even for a second. As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, their home remained silent, save for the occasional rustling of fabric or a long, weary sigh. Their minds were too burdened, their hearts too restless. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds like a countdown to their worst nightmare.
Then, as soon as the clock struck 7:00 AM, the three of them: Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith, and Isabelle, marched toward the Pack House with a singular goal: to beg Alpha Taylor to intervene.
The walk felt endless, their feet moving swiftly but their souls heavy with dread. Mr. Smith’s jaw was locked in determination, his fists clenched at his sides. Mrs. Smith, pale and hollow-eyed, clung to her mate’s arm as though drawing strength from his presence. Is
