Logan's POV
The murmur of the pack filters in through the walls—low, anxious, alive with fear. Hundreds of Lycans wait outside the Big House for my father to speak, and their unease feels like static crawling across my skin.
Some are talking quietly. Others are sobbing.
I can hear them.
Feel them.
They're scared.
And I am too.
I stand in the main hall, watching as my father, Rowan, and Caleb prepare to walk onto the makeshift stage we had built just this morning. Just plywood, beams, a microphone stand. Nothing grand. Nothing fancy. Dad said it didn't matter what it was, it could've been a shoebox if we had one sturdy enough, he just wanted to make sure every single face in the crowd saw him.
He's always been brave like that. Always facing things head on.
