Lyra
Something felt wrong long before the scream left my throat.
It began as a whisper, a shift in the air, so soft I almost dismissed it. The kind of wrong that doesn’t roar, but lingers… waiting.
Killian was already asleep beside me. His breathing was steady, slow, a rhythm I had learned by heart. But tonight, it sounded off. Too even. Too quiet. Like it was rehearsed.
The fire in the hearth had long since dimmed to embers, and the moon hung low outside the window, a pale, watchful eye. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, uneasy.
Wake him up, Thalia whispered.
I reached for him. My hand hovered just above his chest, but then, hesitation. Fear, maybe. Fear of what I might find if I touched him.
I forced myself to lay my palm flat against his heartbeat.
It was there. Strong. Warm. Rea
