Tyrnhael stood at the gate, tall and composed despite the storm rumbling behind his voice. His silhouette was regal—dominant even amongst alphas—but his gaze… His gaze faltered.
It locked onto the massive white wolf standing in the Pit.
Onto Luna.
And for the first time in Vaelen's entire life, he saw his father—their chief—hesitate.
Vaelen swallowed hard, his throat tight.
"Fath—"
But before he could finish, before he could even take a step, Luna growled.
And it was no ordinary growl.
It rolled across the Pit like a guttural quake, low and vibrating with something that didn't feel like a werewolf. No, this wasn't the growl of a pack member defending their territory. It was beastly—untamed. Like it came from the deep wilderness that time forgot.
Vaelen's auburn fur bristled. He wasn't the only one. Every wolf in the Pit stiffened.
They were all wolves. Born into it. Raised in it. They were the very predators that ruled the wild.
But that growl?
