Lucas's jaw tightened—the only visible crack in his carefully controlled expression. Behind him, the four seconds shifted uneasily.
Storm's growl had died into tense silence, but his eyes burned with barely suppressed fury at Alex's audacity.
"You speak as though you understand our situation,"
Lucas said, each word measured and deliberate. "As though weeks of observation give you the right to lecture me about my own pack's survival."
"I don't claim to understand everything," Alex admitted, adjusting his grip on the staff when his palms started to sweat despite the cold.
"But I understand desperation. I understand what it's like to be running out of options and time. I understand—" He pressed his free hand more firmly against his stomach, feeling the reassuring flutter of movement beneath.
"—what it's like to carry lives that depend on you making the right choices, even when every choice feels impossible."
