Pecan's pov
The early evening breeze swept through the forest as I paced the clearing near the pack house. The tension in my chest was unbearable, my thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of everything pressing down on me,Paul's warnings, the hunter's cryptic words, and the incessant threat of the rogues. I needed answers.
My wolf stirred uneasily, urging me to do something, anything, instead of spiraling into fear. That's when I spotted Noah emerging from the treeline, his broad shoulders tense, his face shadowed by a mix of concern and frustration.
"Noah!" I called, my voice sharper than I intended.
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of guilt in them, and that only fueled my anger.
"We need to talk," I said firmly, closing the distance between us.
Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I figured you'd say that."
