Grant Lawson gave a sharp nod of approval.

Together, they navigated the rugged mountain trails to a secluded den-cabin nestled deep within the Silver Ridge peaks, far from the prying eyes of the High Hall. Though the structure was modest, built of rough-hewn stone and ancient timber, it was the perfect sanctuary for a lone wolf. Its primary charm was its isolation; the air here was thick with the scent of pine and fresh snow, untainted by pack politics.

Grant revealed that the territory had once belonged to his grandfather, a respected elder of the Hayes bloodline. He and his fated mate had retreated here to escape the brutal hierarchies...