Like the snarl of a predator, the howling wind tore through the mountain pass, leaving behind ash and snow. As she scurried forward, the hammering of Elaria's boots on the stone barely muffled the frenzied rhythm of her heartbeat echoing inside the small tunnel walls.
Behind her, Draven moved with lethal grace, his breath low and shallow. He wasn’t speaking, not since the moment the rogue’s dying words had fallen like poison into the air:
“The Alpha’s mate…”
It clung to them like smoke—impossible to explain, impossible to erase.
But there was no time to process it. No time to run from the truth.
They weren’t alone anymore.
A swirl of hair and claws crashed into the den's small mouth as the first onslaught came from the shadows. Draven made a snap decision. The snarl that tore from
