CALLAN’S POV
I jolted awake, the pre-dawn chill seeping through my window, my breath fogging in the dimness of my room. The house slept silent, Lukas’s mansion a hulking shadow around me, but my blood thrummed, restless and hot. My boots hit the floor, leather creaking as I laced them tight, my shirt clinging damp to my chest from a restless night. Lukas’s voice echoed in my skull—save Tenebrous, Callan—and I wouldn’t let him down. Not him, not Selenea, not those poor bastards dying under Ryker’s neglect.
I slipped out, the back door clicking shut behind me, my shadow stretching long across the dew-slick grass. My men waited beyond the tree line—ten of them, hulking shapes in the mist, their eyes glinting yellow under the fading stars. No words, just nods, their breaths puffing white as
