{"The Lycan Alpha chose not a wolf, but a vampire with eyes like spilled wine and a soul centuries old. And the world tilted on its axis."}
The sun had started to dip low over the Bay Shifter mountains, casting long shadows through the treetops. The crowd was thinning, laughter echoing faintly from the garden where the pack still mingled and shared food. I needed air. A moment to myself.
I stepped away from the main tables, rounding the side of the garden toward a grove of tall cypress trees, thinking I would be alone. Instead, I found General Mortas leaned back against a tree trunk, arms folded, eyes fixed on the horizon like it might challenge him to a duel. And beside him, General Tiger sat on a stone bench, slowly slicing an apple with a curved dagger. His eyes tracked me even before I spoke.
"Didn't mean to intrude," I said, pausing.
Tiger gave a small, amused grunt. "You did not. Thought you might show up."
