Harris gave a sharp nod to the coroner, signaling it was time to begin. The wolves moved quietly around the statue, their scents thick in the cold night air. The coroner, a careful old wolf with a silver streak down his muzzle, prepared to scrape a small piece of the stone just enough to test its composition and confirm what everyone feared.
They couldn't just destroy it outright. The statue belonged to Beta Julian, and in our world, even the Alpha couldn't violate a pack member's rights without a Council order. So Harris had to play it by the book.
But word travels fast in a pack.
Within the hour, cars began to arrive one after another engines humming, headlights cutting through the snowy dusk. The whole Hale Pack compound was soon crawling with wolves, the air buzzing with unease.
