Caspian Blackwood pov :
There is a specific, agonizing sound that a soul makes when it is violently torn perfectly in half.
It isn't a scream. It isn't a roar. It is a deafening, absolute vacuum of sound—a catastrophic silence that physically implodes the chest cavity, crushing the lungs and shattering the ribs from the inside out.
I knelt on the plush, dark rug of the ruined Rose Room, completely paralyzed by that exact silence.
The physical world around me—the shattered glass of the balcony doors raining down onto the grass, the deafening crack of unnatural thunder shaking the Estate, the terrified weeping of the old pack doctor—was entirely muted. My golden eyes, unblinking and completely hollow, were permanently locked onto the tiny, hand-carved wooden wolf resting in the very
