The battlefield still smoked. Ash floated through the night air like black snow, clinging to fur and skin, carrying the bitter tang of blood. Wolves limped among the wreckage, dragging the wounded toward safety, but their eyes kept drifting back to one place—back to her.
Aria sat cradled against Killian’s chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his bare skin streaked with dirt and blood. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her cheek, steady and strong, a lifeline in the storm of chaos swirling inside her.
But even here, pressed against the one person who steadied her, she could hear them. The whispers.
“She glowed…”
“That wasn’t wolf power.”
“Prophecy. It has to be.”
“What if she’s dangerous?”
Each word struck sharper than claws. Her wolf whimpered low inside her, tor
