Chapter 21: The Cost of Standing

Morning came like it always did.

Too gentle for what the night had done.

Sunlight slid across rooftops and windows, touching the city with ordinary grace, as if nothing irreversible had happened in the dark. People went to work. Coffee brewed. Children waited for buses.

Somewhere, a news feed refreshed and skipped past a story no one would ever write.

The world kept breathing.

The pack did too.

Just not the same way.

Jer stood on the balcony watching dawn pull color back into the sky. He hadn’t slept. Not from fear—but because every time he closed his eyes, he heard the echo of his own voice in the night.

Not the howl itself.

What it meant.

Rain joined him quietly, draping a blanket around his shoulders without a word. They stood together for a long moment, sharing the silence.

“You don’t regret it,” Rain said at last.

Jer shook his head. “No. I regret that it was necessary.”

Rain nodded. “That never goes away. If it does ... we lose something important.”

Inside, Pat sat at the kitchen table staring into a mug he hadn’t touched. His ribs were still tender beneath his shirt, but the pain had faded to a reminder rather than a wound.