They came without footsteps.
Without scent.
Without warning.
One moment the Scar echoed with Kaelen’s voice—and the next, the chamber was silent.
Then.
A ripple.
A shadow.
And six cloaked figures stepped through the broken archway.
They didn’t walk.
They glided.
No fur. No howl. No face.
Just the bare suggestion of bodies cloaked in moon-forged veils, stitched from the very fabric of pack law.
The Mate Hunters.
Kaelen went still, his fire dimming. Even he bowed his head.
Jace pulled Quinn close.
Rowan whimpered behind them, half-curled at Elias’s side. Whatever part of Kaelen still lingered in him was quiet now—receding, watching.
“They’re here,” Kaelen whispered. “As I feared.”
Garrick smiled—blood on his lips, but victory in his posture. “At last.”
The tallest of the Hu
