The carriage wheels crunched over the gravel as we returned to the pack house. The night air was cool, tinged with pine and earth, but the weight in my chest made it hard to breathe.
Lucien hadn't spoken much since we'd left the council. His gaze was fixed forward, his jaw set, his hands clasped loosely on his knees. But the silence wasn't empty—it pulsed with the memory of his words.
His truth.
The declaration still echoed inside me, rattling every fragile wall I'd built to protect myself.
By the time the gates loomed and the mansion's windows glimmered with candlelight, I knew one thing: Seraphina would already be waiting.
And she was.
The great doors opened before us, and there she stood, draped in silk with the color of midnight, her hair pinned in perfect spirals, lips curved in
