Rowan couldn’t breathe.
The execution dagger trembled violently in his hand.
Across the battlefield, thousands of wolves watched in absolute silence as the wind carried the scent of blood and ash through the ruined valley.
His mate knelt before him.
Calm.
Unafraid.
Ready to die.
“Ivy…” Rowan whispered hoarsely.
She reached up and gently closed his fingers around the dagger.
“It’s okay.”
The darkness inside her pulsed again.
A ripple of black energy crawled across the ritual circle beneath her knees.
Time was running out.
Seraphine stood nearby, her ancient eyes filled with quiet sorrow.
“It must be done,” the old witch said softly.
Rowan shook his head slowly.
“No.”
The word was barely more than a breath.
But it carried through the battlefield like thunder.
“I won’t kill
