The night was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in Kael’s secluded cabin. He sat alone on a weathered chair, his silver eyes reflecting the flames. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a faraway look on his face as memories clawed their way to the surface.

“Alpha Kael Blackthorn,” he muttered to himself, the title tasting bitter on his tongue. “Once revered, now reviled.”

He let out a hollow laugh, his voice echoing in the empty room. The ghosts of his past were relentless tonight.

Years ago, Kael had ruled the Blackthorn Pack after picking up the pieces left of the Silver claw pack, one of...