Lykaios’s POV
The weight of the crown had never felt heavier than it did in the quiet of my private study. Outside, the pack was bustling with the mundane rhythm of life, but inside, the mood felt stagnant, suffocating. I stared at the reports on my desk, but the words blurred into meaningless ink.
My chest burned.
It was a sharp, searing ache that started at the base of my throat and radiated down to my core. I froze, my hand gripping the edge of the desk so tightly I heard the wood groan under my fingers. It was familiar, a cold, pulling sensation that felt like someone was tugging at my very soul.
The bond. It was flickering.
“She is near,” my wolf snarled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that echoed inside my skull, vibrating against my consciousness with a desperate, frantic hun
