"He's back," Evelyn whispered. Then louder, her voice steady even as her hands shook. "Lucian is back."
Across the room, her grandmother looked up from the fire. Madam Merrin's hair was bound tight, streaks of white catching the glow of the flames. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, fixed on Evelyn with a weight that pressed the air down.
"You can't go." Her tone was flat, final. "I forbid it."
Evelyn turned to face her, disbelief flashing across her face. "Grandmother—"
"No." The old woman's voice cracked like iron against stone. "Don't even argue. You will not leave this house."
Evelyn swallowed, her throat tight. She knew why. She knew the name that haunted her grandmother's words. Marc. The thing that wasn't a man, whose power tore through Silas and Vyn like paper. His rank was undefined, his strength outside any measure hunters had ever known. An anomaly. Even speaking his name left the air colder.
