The chamber still reeked of smoke and shadow. The air felt heavy, charged, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Aria’s hands shook where they gripped the blanket. Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the image—the pack warrior’s red-glowing eyes, the way his body had dissolved into nothingness.
“He was right here,” she whispered, barely audible. “Right here, Killian. One of ours. One of yours.”
Killian stood with his back to her, shoulders tense, jaw locked. His claws had half-shifted, digging grooves into the wood of the bedpost.
“He wasn’t one of mine,” Killian growled finally, voice low and lethal. “Not anymore.”
The words were meant to sound certain, but even Aria could hear the crack underneath. He was Alpha—if the Shadow Crown had already turned one of his warriors,
