The news spread through the den like wildfire.
By evening, every wolf knew: Jasper's pack house had burned. The Alpha was missing or dead. The Heartlands were in chaos.
And reactions were... divided.
The great hall was packed for dinner, bodies crowding around long wooden tables that groaned under the weight of roasted venison, root vegetables, and fresh bread. The air was thick with the smell of meat and wood smoke, overlaid with the musk of too many wolves in one space. Torches flickered in their iron sconces, casting dancing shadows across stone walls.
"Good," one of the younger warriors said, slamming his tankard down hard enough to slosh ale across the scarred table. "Let him burn. After what he did to you..."
"It's not that simple," Marcus interrupted, his weathered face grave in the firelight. "Destabilized Heartlands means vulnerable borders. Rival packs will try to claim the territory. We'll have war on our doorstep."
