The moon hung low and swollen, bleeding silver light across the stone floor of the war hall. The torches lining the walls had long burned low, casting flickering shadows over the carved wolves snarling in eternal vigil above. I was alone—or so I thought.
“You always did like to sulk in the dark,” Axel’s voice cracked the stillness like a whip.
I didn’t flinch. “I think better when I’m not being lied to.”
He stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed, the firelight catching on the faint scar beneath his eye—the one I’d helped stitch shut years ago. “You mean lied to… like how you’ve been keeping her here? A hunter. A hybrid. A bomb ticking under our feet.”
“She’s my mate,” I said coldly. “She’s more than that.”
“And what are you without your crown, Ryker?” Axel took another step closer
