The air shifted as I stepped out of the sunlight and into the cool, shadowed interior of the 1st pack's ancestral home. The scent of eucalyptus and old stone greeted me like a memory—this place had stood for generations, its thick walls holding the stories of countless alphas before me. The floor beneath my boots creaked faintly as I passed through the wide entryway, nodding to the guards on either side of the door before making my way toward the back.
The portrait loomed over the staircase like a silent sentinel—the founder of the 1st pack, sword in hand, the fire of ancient wars caught in his painted eyes. I pressed my palm to the hidden panel on the frame, feeling the click beneath my fingertips, and the section of wall behind the painting groaned as it shifted inward. Cold air swept up from the tunnel beyond, damp and laced with the scent of fresh timber and earth.
