Selina’s POV
The transition from sleep to wakefulness came with a cold, metallic vibration through the floorboards.
I sat up instantly, the silver static around my fingers flaring a sharp magnesium-blue before I could consciously suppress it. Finn moved ahead of me, his massive frame shifting off the flour sacks with the silent speed of a hunting cat. His right hand went straight to the iron-tipped fire poker, his knuckles white against the rusted metal. The two hours had expired, leaving the air inside the grain vault noticeably colder, thick with the scent of frost and ozone.
But inside my chest, everything was different. The lingering echo of Lyra’s howl still vibrated in my blood, a steady, rhythmic purr of absolute certainty. The human skin over my knuckles felt less like a cage no
