The gates of Moon Ridge opened before we even reached them.
Not in welcome. In challenge.
Heavy iron bars groaned upward as we crested the final slope, revealing the wide stone courtyard where Kaelen had once rejected me in front of the entire pack. Torches burned along the walls, casting long, flickering shadows that made every face look like a skull. Warriors lined the battlements — some I recognized, some I had once called pack. Their silver-tipped spears and crossbows were already trained on us.
Silas walked at my left, broken blade loose in his grip, every step costing him. Lyra hung between us like a corpse that refused to die, her feet dragging through the snow, leaving gray streaks. Her head lolled against my shoulder, white hair brushing my cheek. Every few seconds she whispere
