POV: Aphrodite
Aphrodite chooses herself—publicly.
They come at midday, when the sun is high and shadows pool like dark water beneath the trees. No stealth this time. No testing or probing. Just overwhelming force that makes the air itself feel heavier.
Nightfang returns in numbers that make my stomach drop, a sick swooping sensation that steals my breath. Fifty wolves, maybe more. They emerge from the forest in coordinated waves, their paws hitting the earth in near synchrony that sounds like distant thunder. The formation surrounds our position with military precision, each wolf moving with the kind of discipline that comes from years of brutal training. At the center stands a wolf larger than the others, his presence radiating authority that makes even my Direwolf stir uneasily beneath my skin, restless and coiled.
The Alpha himself has come.
