The night was deathly quiet, save for the low whistle of the freezing mountain wind through the pine needles.
I sat crouched behind the large boulder at the edge of the Moon Ridge perimeter, my breath forming white plumes in the dark. My fingers were numb inside my fur-lined gloves, and my lungs still burned with every shallow breath.
Silas and his six elite warriors had already melted into the shadows of the camp below, moving like ghosts toward the northern bunker.
But I wasn't alone.
Through the electric thread of the blood pact, I could feel Silas’s towering presence in the back of my mind. His vision was tinted red with pure, cold predator instinct as he snapped the neck of a silent sentry. I felt the massive, bunched power in his muscles, and the fierce, possessive warmth of his
