"Perhaps the little stray hasn't been properly collared. Too many high-born wolves at once and her mind simply... snapped."

Hudson’s golden eyes didn't even flick toward Blake Donovan. Sensing the Alpha’s lethality, the scout lowered his head and retreated into the shadows of the stone pillars.

"Heel." The command from Hudson was a vibration in his chest, a low-frequency threat. Avery bowed her head, the fragile light in her eyes extinguishing. She was the Luna of the Silver Ridge, yet she lived like a prisoner in the High-Hall, a decorative ghost. Was this her life because her wolf was silent? Because she couldn't answer his roars with her own?

Hudson...