Noah POV
The cold air of the Moon Whisper Packlands bit through my coat as I stood at the edge of the forest, staring out into the night.
The distant howl of wolves pulled me out of my thoughts, and I straightened, my senses on high alert. It wasn't an unfamiliar sound, but tonight it felt different. Like a warning.
I turned and made my way back to the pack house, the wind at my back. The moon hung high in the sky, a silent witness to everything that was happening. As I approached, I could see the lights of the house glowing warmly in the darkness, but that warmth felt deceptive. Inside, tension crackled like electricity. It was only a matter of time before it broke.
Stepping through the front door, I was greeted by the usual sounds of pack life—murmured conversations and the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. But there was an underlying unease, a quiet that shouldn't have been there. The pack house, usually alive with energy, felt subdued.
