Hours later, the seven of them finally reached the Seasoned Pack. Only the omegas and a few middle-aged warriors had stayed behind to keep watch. Out of all the packs scattered across the werewolf territories, this one was one of the smallest.
There weren't any fancy buildings or showy training grounds to impress anyone, but honestly, none of that mattered right now. The heavy ache sitting in everyone's chest was just too much to deal with.
Ian didn't waste any time. He led them quietly toward the omega burial grounds without saying a word. The farther they walked, the heavier the silence grew around them.
That cold air carried the thick scent of damp earth, and the old trees stood perfectly still, like they were mourning right along with the living. Even the birds had gone quiet, vanishing completely.
Each step felt harder than the last, like the ground itself was trying to drag them down.
