They had found him—the assassin who’d attacked his mother and stabbed Celeste.
Syzar’s silence was more alarming than any roar. Danger radiated from him as his muscles flexed, veins protruding along his neck and temples. They moved toward the throne room, and Celeste followed, needing to see the assailant for herself.
Her side burned with each step, but she pushed through until they reached the throne room.
Bound to a pillar was a tall male, his face a mess of cuts and bruises—clearly Cassian’s handiwork. Both eyes were swollen shut. Celeste stared, trying to recall the eyes she’d seen that night, but everything was a blur now.
Syzar stepped forward. The man trembled, his pants soiled with urine, the alpha’s aura promising a cruel end.
“We found him on the city’s outskirts—a rogue ble
