Logan's POV
"It's clearly a threat."
The words scrape out of my throat like gravel before I've even finished reading the last curl of that looping, arrogant handwriting.
I'm pacing the length of my father's study, fingers knotting in my hair. Noah abandoned that sinister black bouquet downstairs, bringing up only the note and now he's staring at it like it might sprout fangs.
Kestrel must be reveling in this. The new moon is right around the corner and she's probably just sitting comfortably in her throne room, biding her time, watching us scramble for security while she waits for the inevitable. She's so confident in her victory before the war has even started.
It's insulting.
I rake my fingers through my hair, tugging hard enough to sting, and exhale through my teeth. Across the desk, Noah is watching me like he's just seen a vision of the world ending. I don't need our bond to feel his fear, to see every flicker of it on those warm brown eyes.
