Ryder walked through the camp a few miles away from the château, surveying the assembled troops—an army of wolves and vampires bound together by a fragile truce and the looming threat of Wyatt’s rise to power. His steps were steady, his mind sharp, but as he glanced to the side, he caught sight of the mysterious woman standing at the edge of the gathering, her gaze fixed on the moonlit horizon.
Compelled by her enigmatic presence, Ryder approached her. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” he said, his tone respectful but curious. “Who are you, really?”
She turned to him, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her eyes glimmered as if reflecting the light of the moon itself. “Who I am matters less than the role I play,” she said cryptically. “Let us just say, I walk where
