The night sky was a deep indigo blanket overhead as Draka rode fast toward his kingdom, Aria held tightly in his arms. Her face was buried in his chest, her breathing shallow but steady, the warmth of her body a reminder that she was safe—for now.
Behind him, his warriors thundered across the open lands on their steeds, keeping a tight formation. They were silent, loyal shadows in the wind, their eyes sharp for danger. No one spoke, but every man felt the fury that radiated off their Alpha.
Draka’s jaw was clenched. His grip on Aria was protective, almost possessive. His thoughts were a storm of rage and guilt. How had Lucas gotten so close? How had Atlas—his own spy—betrayed him?
He would burn Lucas’s kingdom to the ground. But not now.
Not yet.
His woman came first.
As the gates to
