Zev's POV
Arthur stands near the hearth, his arms crossed, eyes thoughtful beneath his shaggy brows. I sit on the edge of the table, Cara by the wall, quiet like always. She doesn’t speak unless spoken to—still adjusting, I guess.
“She’s the strongest werewolf I’ve ever seen,” Arthur says, voice low and sure.
I blink. “What do you mean?”
He looks at me like it should be obvious. “Zev… I’ve read every record I could find, every old druid journal in this grove. No one survives a shuck bite. No one stays themselves after that much venom. She didn’t turn. She didn’t die. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
My chest tightens. Alyssa.
“And the books?” I ask, standing up and pacing. I can’t stop moving. “Anything in them about her—about what she is?”
Arthur shakes his head. “Not yet.
