The voice didn’t just echo; it vibrated through my marrow, cold as a winter tomb and heavy with the weight of centuries. I tried to scream, but my throat felt as though it had been fused shut by frost. My heart, which had finally found a steady rhythm under Darian’s care, now thrashed against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"So you are the one who survived,” the voice repeated, swirling through my consciousness like ink in clear water. It was deep, ancient, and terrifying—completely separate from the faint, wounded voice of my own wolf.
The burning in my chest intensified, radiating from the spot where Darian had placed his hand earlier to stabilize my bond damage. It wasn't the dull, tearing ache of the rejection anymore. This was a searing, white-hot heat that felt as if my very soul was
