POV: Tristan
The heavy oak doors of the solar didn’t just close behind me; they felt like the lid of a sarcophagus slamming shut on the life I had known for twenty-four years. My father’s threat—the promise to strip my rank and replace my bloodline—vibrated in the very marrow of my bones.
I didn't stop. I walked through the corridors of the High Wing, my stride long and predatory. Every warrior I passed was a ghost, every servant a shadow. I could feel my father’s Alpha-aura still clinging to my skin, a cold, oily residue of the power he had tried to use to crush my will.
He is afraid, Vane rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl that filled my chest. The old wolf sees the moon rising in us, and he knows his sun is setting.
"He’s not just afraid, Vane. He’s desperate."
I reached the
