Logan's POV
"The humans have stolen happiness from you. Where is your rage?"
Kestrel's words hang in the air like smog. Heavy and black and blinding. The silence that follows is the kind of thick that chokes. The kind of silence that carries emotion more than words ever could.
Her jackals snarl low in their throats, mirroring the violence in her gaze. The pain beneath them. That same ochre fury lights up her scarred face, and I can't help but feel Fenrir clawing beneath my skin.
He wants out.
He senses the threat to us and wants blood.
Caleb instinctively reaches for his dagger—only to find nothing there. We had to leave all weapons at the estate gate. Tristche's hands twitch. His claws have already half-shifted, curved and gleaming.
I feel my wolf thrashing inside me, trying to take control. Trying to protect our family. But that would be a horrible idea. If Fenrir takes over, I won't be able to stop him. And if he harms the Alpha of Selvorum…
