The meal between Avery and Grant had just concluded when Grant’s communication slate began to hum incessantly. As he listened to the voice on the other end, his features hardened into a mask of stone.

Avery felt the air grow heavy, a primal instinct warning her of a shift in the pack's equilibrium. She quickly pulsed a message to Grant: "Is Jerome fading? Has the Elder’s spirit broken?"

Grant’s eyes remained distant. "Internal pack business," he replied after a tense beat. "Urgent, but not a life-threatening crisis for the Elder. Forgive me, Avery, but I cannot escort you back to the Monroe den. I must run."

Avery nodded, signaling for...