(Crimson Moon pack)
The latch clicked softly…a sound too small for midday, yet loud enough to echo through the stillness inside the house.
Delilah froze for half a second, her hand still resting on the brass knob, her breath measured.
The sunlight filtering through the lace curtains painted shifting patterns across her…composed… and watchful.
She turned her head slightly, eyes darting to the window.
Nothing.
Just the quiet hum of the pack outside…the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer, the lazy chatter of people trading vegetables, the low bark of a dog. Normal sounds. Ordinary pack life.
But her gaze lingered a little too long on the lane outside.
As if she expected someone to be standing there. Watching.
She pressed her lips together, exhaled slowly through her nose, and straightened. Then, in one practiced motion, she smoothed her dress and adjusted her small hair pin. Her reflection in the window caught the faintest smile curling on her lips.
