Chapter 25. When Wolves Kill Wolves

The messenger stumbled into camp before the first pale light of dawn, shoulders shaking as if the cold were a living thing. Each breath came in ragged gasps, misting the air, and his teeth chattered like hollow wood against rock. His tunic was plastered to his back with sweat, and dark streaks under his eyes spoke of nights spent running, of fear worn deep into bone. He sagged against the lip of the firepit, refusing to speak until Aeryn knelt beside him, warm fingers closing around his trembling hand. She pressed it gently against her own heart.

“Breathe,” she whispered, voice low as the hush before snowfall. “Slowly. You’re safe.”

He closed his eyes, allowed the rhythm of her pulse to ground him, and only then did the words tumble out.

“There’s another pack… coming through the southern birchwood. Twenty, maybe more. Uniformed. Tattoos. They wear the Council’s mark, but they’re all our age. Some even younger.”

Aeryn’s breath caught in her chest. She’d seen t