THE JOURNEY BACK to the Nightshade estate was a silent, agonizing blur. Waldemar’s grip on Selene’s arm remained, a bruising brand that left no doubt of her capture. The Moonbind, unleashed in its full fury, pulsed between them—his rage a suffocating blanket, her terror a sharp, echoing counterpart. He didn’t speak, not a single word, but his silence was far more terrifying than any roar. The two patrol wolves flanked them, their golden eyes watchful, their presence a constant reminder of her failed escape.
When they finally reached the estate, the first tendrils of dawn painting the sky in bruised purples and greys, Waldemar didn’t take her back to her chambers. Instead, he pulled her directly into his own, the heavy door thudding shut behind them with an ominous finality. He released he
