The battlefield was quiet after the last battle. The pack members were exhausted, regrouping, and Silver—as always—stood apart from the others, arms crossed, his senses sharp. But when Rhys emerged dragging something, he froze. He really did—a sharp thud hit his ribs. We have a survivor. Rhys growled, tossing the body as if it weighed nothing. Heads turned. The scent cut through the blood and smoke—one that hit deeper... Silver's jaw clenched, his inner wolf growling low and dangerous...
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1Celtic_Ivy
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27/05/2025