The assertion of the Montgomery and Hayes bloodlines made the gathered wolves fall into a heavy silence. The Silver Ridge was built on the bones of the wealthy and the powerful, and to most, it seemed suicidal for a lowly kinsman like Boris to risk the Great Alpha’s wrath over a mere bag of gold coins.

Boris, smelling the hesitation, doubled down with a snarl of arrogance. “Come, meet with my pack-lawyer. The blood-scroll is ready. I expect every coin returned by the next full moon. Furthermore, I shall demand a tribute of land for the emotional scarring of our lineage. From this moment, Avery Monroe, you are an exile....