JC POV
I was staring into the fire, listening to the sharp crackling of the wood, when Klinton suddenly rose from the log he was sitting on. My gaze instantly locked onto him.
"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing how he straightened his posture and fixed his eyes in one direction across the camp.
"I just heard my father wolf's roar," Klinton said, his voice low and tense. "And it wasn't a good one."
I stood up, swallowing hard as unease began to creep over me. "What does that mean? Is your father in danger?"
Klinton turned toward me, his expression serious. "That wasn't a roar of fear—it was anger," he said, his tone carrying a weight that made my chest tighten.
His piercing gaze held mine for a moment before he added, "Stay here. I need to go check on him." Without waiting for my response, Klinton moved toward the edge of the camp, his determination as sharp as the firelight flickering against the trees.
