AUTHOR’S POV

There was a rush of heavy steps into the Bloodline Packhouse. Lanky long legs made their way to the dining hall where Alpha Wilson Heather was having breakfast.

"Alpha," The man whispered, bowing his head down with respect.

Wilson’s gaze shot up to meet his, sensing the urgency in the man's tone. He knew it wouldn't be something he liked.

"What is it?" He asked, dropping the silver cup on the table.

"News from the Southern Pack, it's urgent." Wilson’s blue eyes darkened, and he could feel his blood turn dreadfully cold. The man was one of the few spies he had watching the Southern Moon Pack. Watching...