The night shattered around them.
Wolves burst from the shadows, their eyes glinting like silver moons, their bodies moving in perfect sync, like a force of nature more than individuals. These were not rogues—these were exiled warriors, disciplined and waiting for their moment to strike.
Caroline’s pulse spiked.
She reached for her sword, her instincts screaming at her to fight, but something held her back—not fear, not hesitation, but realization.
This wasn’t an attack.
This was a message.
Caelan stood in the center of it all, his stance unshaken, his silver eyes burning with something almost amused as he watched Ezra tense beside her.
"Still reaching for your sword before you think, brother?" Caelan murmured, tilting his head slightly. "How very predictable."
Ezra growled, a deep,
