Remo’s POV
Blood still clung to my claws.
I stared down at them, red crusting the fur along my knuckles, dried black along the edges. It wasn't hers. Thank the gods, it wasn't hers. But it could've been.
It almost was.
I exhaled, forcing air out of my lungs. The scent of witch magic still lingered in the air, sour and rotting. The grove where we fought had been scorched to ash. My wolves were still tending to the wounded. Some would never shift again. One would never rise again.
And Ella—she had almost been taken.
That thought alone made something monstrous unfurl in my chest.
The traitor lies beside the throne.
The whisper hadn't even been meant for me, but it echoed louder in my skull than any other voice. I could hear it over the howls. Over the fire. Over the sound of Ella's b
