The air inside the manor was thick with tension.
Draven stood at the threshold, his blade gleaming in the dim candlelight. His presence alone was enough to make the grand hall feel smaller, as if the walls were pressing inward, ready to close in on them all.
Makayla felt the rush of anticipation coil in her chest like a snake preparing to strike. She could smell the hunter’s resolve, the sweat on his skin, the heartbeat steady but charged with adrenaline.
He was ready.
But so was she.
From the balcony above, Celine’s voice was soft, almost amused.
“Welcome back, Draven.”
Draven didn’t respond at first. His icy blue eyes flicked upward, meeting hers. A storm raged behind them, but there was something else there too—something darker.
Celine tilted her head, as if examining an old fri
