By the time the party wound down, Silver Ridge had been changed.
Shadow Crescent didn't just throw parties. We left a mark.
Some of Damon's warriors were passed out on the grass. Others were tangled up in our packmates, laughing, drunk, free.
I stepped over an unconscious wolf, heading toward the packhouse, when I felt it.
Damon.
His presence pressed against my back before he even spoke.
"Are you done?"
I smirked, not bothering to turn around. "With what?"
He stepped in front of me, arms crossed, his face a mask of barely restrained rage. "With whatever game you're playing."
I arched a brow. "You think this is a game?"
His eyes darkened. "You're ruining my pack."
I laughed. "Your pack is having the time of their lives." I tilted my head. "Or is that the problem? That they're realizing how limited they were under you?"
His nostrils flared. "You're out of line."
I stepped closer, my smirk sharp. "Or maybe you just don't like the fact that I don't fear you."
His breathing was rough. "You should."
I leaned in, just enough to make his wolf shudder. "You don't even know what I am."
Something flickered in his gazeâuncertainty, frustration, something deeper.
Good.
Because soon?
He was going to learn.