The wounds do not bleed.
They linger.
⸻
Morning finds Blood Moon quieter than it has been since the covenant was born. Not hushed with grief. Not heavy with fear.
Careful.
Wolves move slower. Voices stay low. No one quite meets anyone else’s eyes for too long, as if contact itself might reopen something raw.
Zane feels it everywhere.
In the bond.
In the land.
In himself.
⸻
Mara wakes screaming.
Not loud.
Choked.
Her body jerks upright as if pulled from water, breath coming in ragged bursts.
Zane is there before anyone calls for him.
“You’re safe,” he says firmly, kneeling beside her.
“You’re here.”
Mara’s hands clutch at her chest.
“I wasn’t taken,” she gasps.
“She never touched me.”
Her eyes lift, haunted.
“So why does it feel like something was stolen?”
⸻
Jason wa
