Iris’s lodge was entirely different from Kaelen’s grand, imposing quarters. While the Alpha’s residence felt like a fortress built to withstand a siege, Iris’s home was bright, cluttered, and intensely alive. Bundles of dried lavender and rosemary hung from the low ceiling beams, filling the air with a sharp, clean scent that completely scrubbed away the lingering memory of the Down Pack’s damp stone cellars.

"Sit," Iris commanded, pointing a finger toward a massive, deep-set sofa covered in thick cream-colored wool and pile after pile of soft velvet cushions. "And don't you dare think about sitting on the floor. If I catch you hovering by the door like a servant,...