Chapter 11 The Weight Of Eyes

The morning sun cuts through the trees like a blade, sharp and unyielding, as the pack gathers in the training yard. I stand near the back, arms crossed tight over my chest, trying to keep the nerves from showing. The air’s thick with tension, every breath tasting like dust and anticipation. The council’s envoy is due any minute, and I can feel the weight of every stare—some curious, some wary, a few outright hostile. Morgan’s up front, his stance wide and unshakable, like he’s daring the world to take a swing. Clara’s beside him, her calm a stark contrast to the restless energy rippling through the pack. Elena and Jake stick close to me, their presence a quiet anchor, but even they can’t stop the way my heart hammers against my ribs. The shadows flicker at my feet, restless, mirroring the churn in my gut.