ROWAN’S POV
Miasan’s house looked exactly as it always had—small, unassuming, tucked away in a quiet corner of the pack territory. Nothing about the exterior suggested anything was wrong. No broken windows. No shattered door. No signs of violence or struggle.
Just silence.
I stood in the doorway with my brothers, all of us returned now from our various missions. Emiriel stood to my left, his expression carved from stone. Malachi was to my right, his jaw tight with tension. And Nikolai lingered behind us, his shadows unusually still, subdued.
The body lay in the center of the small living space, exactly where Basil had found it.
Miasan.
Or what was left of her.
She looked… deflated. That was the only word for it.
Her skin was pale, not the natural paleness of death, but something w
