Blake POV
Waiting has never been my strength.
I was forged for movement—for fire and decision, for action taken without hesitation and consequences faced head-on. Even the curse agrees with that truth. It coils beneath my skin now, restless, whispering that stillness is weakness and patience is a lie told by those too afraid to strike first.
Tonight, I force myself to stand still anyway.
The fortress hums around us, ancient wards layered thick and alert, stone breathing with a patience I have never possessed. This place has held me together more times than I care to admit—when my father’s leash cut too deep, when the curse burned too hot, when the world demanded I become something monstrous to survive it.
Elle stands close behind me. Always close.
I don’t need to look to know where s
