Soraya's POV
"Elowen," I said, my voice low and shaking with restraint, "do not ever speak of my son."
The words were not a threat. They were a boundary carved straight from my spine.
For a heartbeat, the room stilled.
Then she smiled.
Slowly. Deliberately. As if she had been waiting for that exact line to be drawn.
Her lips parted, revealing the sharp gleam of her own fangs. Her nails lengthened into elegant, vicious claws that caught the light as she lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Oh, Soraya," she said softly, almost fondly. "You truly thought I would stop now?"
The air thickened.
I felt my wolf surge forward, furious, clawing at my ribs from the inside. My pulse roared in my ears. The magic binding the room shuddered as my anger pressed against it, testing for weakness.
