The bond was a live wire, humming beneath Nyx’s skin, but it remained incomplete. It was a promise, not a covenant. While the night with Vane had fundamentally altered the landscape of her soul—anchoring her to the High Alpha and igniting the dormant power of the Trinity—it had not yet unified the three. Malphas and Caspian watched her with a new, dangerous intensity, their possessiveness sharpened by the scent of Vane’s claim, yet they waited. The ritual of the Mark, the final sealing of the Trinity, required a synchronized harmony she had not yet achieved.
For now, they were a pack of four, orchestrating a war from the shadows of the Obsidian Citadel.
Nyx stood before a wall of maps, her fingers tracing the routes through the Neutral Territories. She was no longer the girl who had been
