The Scar was no longer a battlefield.
It had become a sanctuary of waiting.
In the hours after the Mate Hunters vanished, no one spoke. Not even Kaelen. Standing in the center of the room, his fire reduced to embers, the ancient Alpha's eyes were fixed on the ceiling, where starlight now filtered through broken stone.
Under Elias's coat, Rowan slept soundly but safely, nestled between weight and warmth.
And Jace and Quinn… sat side by side.
Not touching. Not speaking.
Just breathing.
"I keep wondering if we would still be here if we had never met that night—if we had never bonded," Quinn finally murmured, his voice scratchy in the silence.
Jace took a moment to respond.
He was focusing on his hands, which were still covered in blood and had damaged knuckles from the altercation. “
