The forest had gone unnaturally quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of silence—the kind that felt like the world itself was holding its breath.
Every member of the clan stood frozen, eyes wide, hearts pounding, watching as I planted my boot harder against Dylan's head. His face was pressed into the dirt, blood and soil mixing beneath him, his body trembling—not from pain alone, but from fear.
I looked up at them.
At the wolves who had been running and hunted like exotic animals for generations by different supernaturals.
"At one point," I said calmly, my voice carrying across the clearing, "I agree with what John said—that we are hunted everywhere we go."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"But handing ourselves over to vampires as a vassal race ?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "That isn't survival. That's slaughter delayed."
I lifted my foot slightly, just enough for Dylan to gasp for air before pressing down again.
