Kiera's P.O.V.
The tension in Damian’s body was palpable as I reached out to touch his arm. He was staring into the shadows, his golden eyes narrowed, his breathing steady but too controlled. Something had shaken him.
“Damian,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind. “What is it? What did you hear?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on the darkness beyond the treeline, like he expected something—or someone—to emerge at any moment.
“Damian,” I pressed, stepping closer to him. “Talk to me.”
He finally turned to me, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. “I heard a voice,” he admitted, his tone low but charged.
My stomach twisted. “A voice?”
His nod was almost imperceptible. “It said, ‘She’s not the only one with power.’”
The words sent a
