The council hall, once filled with the roars of combat and declarations of victory, had settled into an uneasy silence. The battle had been won, but the war was far from over. Ronan lay resting in the healer’s chamber, his wounds slowly mending, yet tension still hung thick in the air. Layla sat beside him, her fingers resting lightly over his hand, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin. The golden light that had once coursed through her had faded, but the memory of its brilliance lingered in the minds of every alpha who had witnessed it.
Outside, the balance of power teetered on the edge of a knife.
Mutterings of doubt and suspicion rippled through the gathered alphas. The prophecy, once an ominous whisper of fate, had taken on a tangible presence in Layla’s display of power. Not al
