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Shadows of the Past

Moonlight silvered my blood-stained hands as I stared at them in horror. Even my heightened werewolf senses couldn't comprehend how this had happened—how a moment of peace with Callum had shattered into chaos and suspicion.

"Show me your hands!" Callum's voice cracked with Alpha authority, sending shivers down my spine. The pack's heavy presence closed in around us, their judgment as thick as the fog rolling through Richmond Park.

My heart thundered as I slowly raised my trembling fingers. The dried blood beneath my nails gleamed accusingly in the moonlight. *My* blood, from scaling that fence earlier. But how could I prove it?

"Olivia Blackwood." Callum's words carried the weight of an executioner's axe. Each syllable seemed to physically pain him as his amber eyes burned into mine. "By pack law, you are confined to the sanctuary until this incident can be investigated."

*An hour earlier...*

The forest fight's aftermath had left visible marks—a tear in Callum's henley, mud streaking
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