Batista's POV
The tent felt suffocating.
The heavy fabric walls hung still, trapping the scent of herbs, old leather, and lingering smoke. Eric sat across from me, fiddling with the hilt of his dagger, the flickering lamplight catching on the sharp edge. Mara had left moments ago, her face pale but determined as she went to say her goodbyes to Kael, who — stubborn as always — refused to enter the pack grounds and waited in the woods like a ghost in the night.
I watched her leave, something uneasy twisting inside me.
"Will she be alright out there alone?" I asked quietly.
Eric didn't even glance up. "Mara's tougher than she looks. She'll be fine."
I hesitated. "Who… who is Kael to her?"
That question had weighed on me for a while now. The way Mara spoke about her, the glances they shared, it wasn't ordinary. It was deeper. Ancient.
