“Sometimes the truth feels worse than the lie.”
The throne room was silent except for the slow, deliberate rhythm of the stranger’s breathing. The silver fire along the walls cast him in shadows, making the jagged scars on his face look like cracks in stone.
“You’ve been running from me for longer than you realize,” he said, his voice low, almost gentle. “But wolves always circle back to their origin.”
“I don’t even know you,” I snapped, though the bindings around my wrists pulsed with every beat of my heart, making my voice tremble.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know my blood.”
A chill slid down my spine. “What?”
“You feel it, don’t you? That pull you can’t explain. That’s not just the bond to your alphas—it’s the bond to me. You were born of my line, litt
