NOELLE
Azren leans in and rests his head on my shoulder, his dark hair tickling the side of my neck. He's not asleep yet, but he's close. I can tell.
I lift my hand without thinking and thread my fingers through his hair, stroking gently behind his ear. He lets out a low, contented sound that vibrates against my collarbone.
Kaziel watches us from across the desk, his expression gentle.
"The new order," he says, his voice low enough not to disturb the fragile peace settling over Azren, "isn't just hunters or dark packs. They're linked to the Underworld. They believe that Azren is the key to accessing the kind of power most of us have only ever read about in forbidden grimoires. Powers that could let them tear the veil wide open and weaponize what comes through."
Azren's fingers flex ag
