The quiet of the early morning hung over the Silvercrest pack like a heavy fog. The moon was still visible, a pale sliver in the pre-dawn sky, casting a faint glow on the wolves gathered in the clearing. They moved silently, their eyes focused, their bodies tense with anticipation.
Kael stood at the front, his heart pounding in his chest. His body still ached from the wounds Marcus had inflicted on him, but the pain was secondary to the fire burning in his veins. He had no time to worry about his own recovery. Lyra needed him, and that thought alone drove him forward, no matter the cost.
He scanned the group, his gaze landing on Garren, who stood by his side as always. The trust in Garren's eyes was clear, but there was also concern—a concern Kael couldn't afford to acknowledge.
