KELLY THOMPSON'S POV
The night held its breath, the kind of stillness that blankets the earth just before a storm. Amidst the darkness, I could feel them—the oppressive weight of Alpha Biansky's pack pressing against our defenses, their malice seeping through the shadows like a poison.
"Mother," Eden's voice was a mere wisp, but his presence by my side was a fortress in itself. "They're here."
I nodded, unable to speak as the first of them emerged from the treeline, their forms hulking and menacing under the moon's pale scrutiny. And then he appeared, Biansky—Bane—a figure carved from the very essence of vengeance, with eyes that glowed like coals in the dim light.
"Alpha Biansky," I called out, my voice steady despite the tumult inside me. "Let this be the end of bloodshed. For the sake of our people, for all we have lost, let there be peace."