Chapter 97 Just A Tool

• Henry****
• The journal felt heavy in my hands, its worn leather cover cracked with age, the Dark Moon Alpha's insignia etched faintly on the surface. My heart raced as I opened it, the musty scent of time wafting from the yellowed pages. Each word I read seemed to strip away another layer of the illusion I had built around Xavier’s father—the man I thought had been a savior to me from the Rogues.
• The first entries were mundane, detailing pack alliances, hunting strategies, and seasonal struggles. But then, the tone shifted. The writing became more erratic, the ink smudged as if the writer's hand had trembled.