AYLA'S POV
The silence was worse than the screams.
For a long moment, I lay there on the stone, every nerve singing with exhaustion, my body nothing but a shell held together by stubbornness. My fire had burned too hot, too long. I should have been dead.
But I wasn't.
Because he was there.
Kael's shadow loomed above me, his hands trembling as he cupped my face. His eyes—gods, those eyes. Silver, sharp, desperate. The look of a man who had torn himself apart to hold me together.
"It's done," he whispered, his voice ragged. "It's bound. You're safe."
Safe.
The word should have soothed me. Should have been enough. But the bond between us pulsed, and something in it was wrong.
At first, I thought it was just me. That I was broken, frayed, too burnt-out to sense him clearly. But then I felt it—a thread coiled tight, something cold and heavy woven into the silver warmth of his wolf.
My stomach turned.
