CHAPTER 95NOVA'S POVBy breakfast, every corridor in the compound carries whispers. By lunch, those whispers have divided into sides. By sunset, the pack no longer feels like one family.It feels like a cracked mirror. But to be honest, I have seen this coming. No one argues openly.Hell, that would have been easier.Instead, conversations stop when certain people enter the room. Wolves who have supposedly trained together since childhood suddenly choose different sparring partners. Long tables that once echoed with laughter develop invisible borders.Some sit together, some deliberately do not. I watch one young scout carry his tray toward a familiar group, hesitate halfway, and quietly turn to eat alone.Across the room, an older warrior notices me looking and lowers his gaze to the floor.He isn't angry. I wish he is. He looks guilty instead. As if my existence has become a question he doesn't know how to answer."They're talking about a vote," Jason murmurs beside me. I don't ask
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