The pack house was quieter than usual, the usual hum of daily activities muffled by the undercurrent of mourning. Everyone had felt the shift when Kenneth died. The tension, the sense of something terribly wrong, had settled over the place like a dark cloud. But no one dared to speak of it openly yet, not while Jeffrey’s grief was still so raw, not while the weight of it hung over the pack like a storm waiting to break.
The councilmen—Travis, Nick, and Steve—moved silently through the halls, each of them carrying out their duties, though their eyes were distant, their minds elsewhere. Hannah’s influence, though subtle, had already begun to take root in their thoughts. The potion she had given them gleamed faintly in their pockets, and as they passed each pack member, they prepared to use
