Blood
The night was still. Too still.
The fire in Lucien’s cave burned low, shadows flickering across the walls. I sat alone, the mark on my palm pulsing faintly with light and dark, in rhythm with my heartbeat. But something inside me was wrong. My chest ached, my wolf restless, pacing within my mind.
“Lucien?” I called softly, but he didn’t answer. He had left hours ago — training, he said, was over for the night. But the silence pressed heavily, uneasily.
Then the pain hit.
A sharp tug in my chest, sudden and violent. My breath caught. I doubled over, clutching my ribs. The shadows around me flared without command, writhing wildly as though sensing the same dread.
My wolf’s voice broke through, rough and panicked. He’s hurt.
I froze. Who?
Louis.
The name tore through me like li
