SELENEA’S POV
Sweat dampened my nightgown as I sat on the bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, moonlight spilling through the window, casting silver across the hardwood, my boots discarded by the door. Dinner’s warmth—Lukas’s smile, Callan’s plan, the scent of roasted meat—faded, leaving me alone, my chest tight, my hands twisting the blanket, threads fraying under my nails. My room was quiet, the castle’s walls thick, muffling the night, but my mind roared, memories of Ryker—his gray eyes, his promises, his claws—mixing with the plan to dethrone him, Callan’s words about Callista, the Mayor, a path to revenge. My breath hitched, my fingers trembling, my red hair sticking to my neck, my guilt a weight heavier than any blade.
I’d sold Tenebrous, my pack, my blood, to Ryker, my love bli
