The air was thick with tension as the pack tended to their wounds after the battle. The victory against the shadow wolves was bittersweet. Many had fallen, and those who remained were exhausted. Cinder stood near Jason, who was resting under a tree, his breathing still labored from the curse.
"I'll fix this," she whispered to him. "I'll fix everything."
Before Jason could reply, a chilling howl echoed through the forest, sending shivers down every spine. It was deep, guttural, and unnatural. Cinder's heart sank.
"That's not one of ours," Marcus said, stepping beside her, his face pale.
The pack tensed, turning toward the sound. From the shadows of the trees, a figure emerged. At first, it looked like an ordinary wolf, but as it stepped into the light, gasps rippled through the crowd.
It was King Volkov—or what was left of him.
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