RHETT
The trek back from the Standing Stones felt like a descent into a fever dream. Every muscle in my body screamed with the effort of carrying Lawrence across the uneven, frozen terrain, his weight a constant reminder of the fragility of the man I had once thought invincible. Behind us, the pack moved like a funeral procession, their heads low, the triumph of the battle overshadowed by the heavy, suffocating silence of the woods. Nola walked at my shoulder, her steps light but her presence massive. The air around her still carried that sharp, metallic scent of ozone, a lingering echo of the power she had unleashed to shatter the ritual.
Every time our skin brushed, a jolt of pure, white hot energy snapped between us. It was more than the bond. It was as if the ley line she had tapped
