The air in my room was heavy with the silence of grief. It had only been days since the Eclipse pack descended, a whirlwind of violence that tore through our lives, leaving only shattered remnants. My father, bless his weary soul, was still reeling, the weight of his surrender etched into every line on his face. He’d done it for us, for me, to spare the few lives left.

I sat on my bed, the memories still too fresh, too raw. Friends gone, the pack leaders massacred, our home now just another acquisition for the brutal Alpha Marcus. He was a phantom menace, a name whispered in fear, a man who never smiled and owned everything he touched. Our lives, it seemed, were now merely tokens in his vast collection.

“Gwen,” my father’s voice, thick with unspoken burdens, broke the quiet. He stood in my doorway, a silhouette against the dim light, and I knew, with a chilling certainty, that whatever he was about to say would only deepen the wound. My stomach clenched, a cold dread seeping into my bones.