Gary stood in the shadowed clearing behind the Sloan mansion, the full moon casting a silver glow over the ritual circle Olivia had prepared. His heart pounded, a steady drum beneath the cool night air, but his dark eyes were fixed on Serena, her frail form trembling as she clutched the moonroot and the charred pendant from the Witch’s Sanctuary. Her fever radiated, her face pale and slick with sweat, yet her defiance—the fire witch spark that had drawn him from the start—burned in her gaze. The mate bond pulsed, a warmth that anchored him, but it was laced with a fear he couldn’t shake: the ritual could save her, or it could take her from him forever. Offering his blood was a risk he’d take a thousand times, but the thought of losing her, of his sacrifice not being enough, twisted his gut
