CHAPTER 9

The morning sun, a pale sliver peeking over the horizon, cast long shadows across the training grounds. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had settled over Dawnsville after the attack. But the silence was a deceptive calm, a prelude to the storm of activity about to unfold.

Jaxon, still bearing the mark of the recent battle, stood at the edge of the training grounds, his gaze sweeping across the assembled pack. His wound, though healing, still throbbed with a dull ache, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he had experienced. He had been lucky, he knew, but the experience had shaken him, forcing him to confront his own mortality, the fragility of his position as alpha.

He had called this meeting, this training session, not just to hone their skills, but to instill a sense of urgency, a renewed commitment to their safety and security. The attack had been a wake-up call, a stark reminder that their en