KAEL'S POV
The night tasted like metal.
I knelt in the dark brush, one knee pressed to cold earth, every breath tight in my chest. The valley below flickered with campfires, but there was no warmth. No singing. Just wolves pacing in circles, sharpening blades, whispering omens.
Ayla was safe—for now. She slept beneath the stone-woven canopy of the healer's tent, surrounded by runes and barriers I'd carved myself. But peace never lasted long here. Not with the Council's scouts closing in. Not with the Unseen creeping at the edges of the wards.
A twig snapped.
I turned, already moving. Blade unsheathed. Step silent. My wolf surged forward under my skin, ready.
Two shadows darted through the trees—too fast for mortals, too quiet for friendlies.
Council assassins.
I didn't wait.
