The high-pressure silence of the room finally fractured. The white-hot static in the air dissipated, replaced by the heavy, grounding scent of rain and cedar. The Alpha rage was receding, but it left behind a jagged, raw shoreline.
Fenris stood trembling, his skin slick with sweat and the grime of the breach. The shifts had been too frequent, too violent; his clothes had long since been reduced to charcoal-colored rags scattered somewhere between the mountains and the gates. He was a mountain of corded muscle and scars, standing starkly in the center of the wreckage.
His eyes, still more golden than blue, fixed on Rhiannon. He took a staggering step forward, his jaw working as he fought to pull his human voice out from the throat of the beast.
"Is mate... okay?"
The voice was deep
