The air was too quiet.
I had felt it for days—an itch at the back of my neck. Something wasn't right, and no matter how many times I told myself it was just nerves, my wolf didn't believe it.
She paced more. Growled more. Warned me with every step I took near the western watchtower.
So I followed the feeling.
It started when I walked by the strategy hall late one night. Darius was asleep in our cabin, finally getting rest after weeks of stress. I had stepped out for water when I heard voices inside the stone hall.
The door was cracked.
I crept closer, staying low in the shadows.
"…we should have moved when he was weak," a voice said. Low and sharp. Male.
"Too late now. She's back," someone else replied. "He'll never doubt her again."
"No," the first voice said, firm. "It doesn't matter. We finish what we started. The pack needs new blood—strong leadership, not love-blinded fools."
My heart froze.
I knew that voice.
It belonged to *Caleb*.
Darius's most trusted Beta.
