Skylar's POV
The scent of old parchment and expensive bourbon usually grounded me, but today, my private study felt like a tomb. I paced the length of the Persian rug, my boots scuffing against the intricate patterns. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that ink-black shadow stretching out from Aliyah's fingertips, lashing at Tyler, draining the very essence of his wolf until he was nothing but a shivering, pale imitation of a Beta.
"She's gone, Skylar. She walked into the woods and the shadows simply... swallowed her."
Tyler was slumped in a leather armchair by the fireplace, his face gaunt. He looked like he'd aged ten years in a single night. His emerald eyes, usually so sharp and defiant, were clouded with a lingering exhaustion that made my stomach twist.
