Henry rubbed his temples, sighing. The warriors respected Lyander, but they also feared him. His cold demeanor, the way his gaze could silence an entire room—it kept others at arm's length. It created an unease in the pack, like walking on thin ice whenever he was around.
And Henry hated it. He wanted to trust him, wanted him here. But no matter how much he valued Lyander's presence, a small part of him always held back. Because sometimes, the strength that shields you can also cast the longest shadow.
He had to think of the pack as a whole—not let his emotions cloud his judgment. No matter how much he wanted for Lyander to stay here permanently, personal feelings couldn't take priority right now.
Lyander's presence, while valuable, was only tolerated because the pack stood on the brink of war. The air was thick with tension, and they needed every sword, every claw, every ally they could muster.
