The half-lit moon cast an eerie glow over the secluded clearing where Ronan waited. His stance was rigid, his golden eyes locked on the approaching figure. Layla moved toward him, the crisp night air carrying her scent, wild, electric, intoxicating. The moment their eyes met, the pull between them became almost unbearable, an invisible force tightening around them, drawing them together in ways neither could resist.
Layla’s breath was shallow, her pulse quickening as she took another step closer. "You felt it too, didn’t you?" her voice was soft, laced with something almost fearful.
Ronan exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "The prophecy, the Blood Moon, all of it... it’s been leading us here."
She produced the aged parchment she had stolen from the archives, her fingers trembling sligh
