The night was thick. Heavy with clouds, heavy with silence, and heavier with the kind of tension that promised war.
In the heart of the Bloodfang outskirts, where the trees grew black and close, Gonzalo waited.
The moon was thin tonight, a dying sliver behind fog. The ground was wet beneath his boots, the scent of pine and earth rising with each slow step he took.
He could feel it, the hum of his revived wolf beneath his skin, the faint pulse of blue light that still sometimes flickered in his veins from the Moonfire essence.
He was different now.
Stronger.
Colder.
Less human.
A shape stepped out from between the trees.
Tall. Broad. Wrapped in a long dark coat that smelled faintly of blood and smoke.
"Dante," Gonzalo said, voice low.
The rogue alpha smiled like a man who had already won. "You came."
"I said I would," Gonzalo replied, not looking away. "You said you had a plan."
