Chapter 8

As I left the ring, I felt the weight of more eyes on me—not with doubt this time, but with something quieter, something closer to trust.

The next morning, I stood at the training grounds, my resolve steeling as wolves gathered around me. This was only the beginning, but I could feel the first stirrings of something stronger than doubt. Hope.

POV: Osric

The morning sun cast long shadows over the Talon Pack compound, illuminating the familiar faces I had come to know over decades of service. But the light did little to ease the growing tension that clung to the pack like a storm waiting to break. Each wolf moved with purpose, heads bowed slightly, their eyes avoiding one another’s too often for comfort.

I stood near the edge of the training grounds, arms crossed, watching Elara. She was speaking to Lyle, the eager young wolf who had begun stepping up in patrols, and I couldn’t help but notice the strain in her posture. Her words were calm, steady, but her shoulders carried a tension she was trying desperately to hide. It was a burden all Alphas bore—this endless balancing act of strength and vulnerability. But Elara’s burden was different. Heavier.

She turned her gaze toward me briefly, catching my eye, and gave me a faint nod. I returned the gesture, though I couldn’t suppress the unease that had settled deep in my chest since the day Dante returned.

Dante.