Evelyn dragged Kyra down the dimly lit hallway, her grip like iron. The sounds of Ryder and Wyatt’s battle echoed behind them—bone-crushing impacts, growls, and roars reverberating through the château. Kyra’s heart raced as she tried to dig her heels into the floor, her body screaming in protest. But Evelyn moved with an unnatural strength, effortlessly dragging her toward an ominous destination.
As they emerged into the courtyard, Kyra’s breaths came in shallow gasps. The storm that had cloaked the château earlier had vanished, leaving behind a crisp, eerie stillness. The sky was clear except for the partial Bloodmoon casting a haunting crimson glow across the courtyard.
Evelyn’s lips curled into a devious smile. “It’s almost time,” she murmured, her voice dripping with malice.
Kyra’s
