“Fate has a sick sense of humor.”
The night was heavy with pine and blood.
I stalked the tree line, still tasting Aria on my lips, still burning from the fight with Kade. My wolf wanted to rip him apart, to drag her away, but something deeper kept me pacing in circles.
Until I caught her scent.
Sharp. Icy. Sweet as poison.
Lira Vale.
I froze, nostrils flaring. Her trail was fresh—moving fast, cutting through Blackfang land as if she owned it. My lips pulled back in a snarl. What the hell was she doing out here?
I followed. Silent. A shadow through shadows.
She stood in the clearing by the old ritual stones, her white dress catching moonlight, her hair a shimmering blade down her back. But it wasn’t her beauty that made my body tense.
It was the sudden, violent snap in my chest.
T
