"Is that…?" Magnolia began, her voice trailing into a whisper.
"Yes," Rhett murmured. "My father."
The car halted.
The back door opened.
And out stepped the Elder Alpha.
He was not a man one easily forgot. Towering, broad-shouldered, his presence was volcanic, consuming the air around him. His hair, once dark, was now streaked with silver like lightning etched through storm clouds. Lines carved his face with decades of power worn like armor, and his eyes, wolf-gold and unforgiving, burned through everything they touched.
Magnolia instinctively took a step back.
Elder Alpha Callahan surveyed the territory with the gaze of a king returning to a throne long vacated. His black coat snapped in the wind, tailored to fit a body still formidable, his hands gloved in leather, posture regal. Soldiers trailed behind him, men who had tasted war and returned colder for it.
The Elder's eyes landed on Rhett.
"Son," he said. The word was not tender. It was sharp, like a knife unsheathed.
