The night did not end when Drail fell to his knees.
It split open.
I stood between Derek and Jax in the ruined chamber while the pack’s howls carried across the hills. Smoke drifted through broken stone. Blood soaked into ancient floors. The war that had been whispering at our backs was no longer a rumor.
It was breathing.
Derek released Drail to the guards with one cold order. “Chain him. Alive.”
No anger. No satisfaction. Just command.
That was Derek in battle. Clean. Precise. Ruthless without noise.
Jax turned to me instead. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers rough, grounding. His thumb brushed the place where my pulse jumped too fast.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“I’m not.”
I was.
Not from fear.
From power.
The energy I had pulled from Drail still moved under
