Elle POV
It doesn’t explode into my awareness.
That’s what frightens me most.
If pain had torn through me, if fire had scorched my veins or my wolf had surged forward snarling, I would have known exactly what to do. I’ve always trusted pain. Pain is honest. Pain announces itself. Pain says run or fight.
This isn’t pain.
This is attention.
I’m walking alone through one of the inner corridors of the fortress, the stone beneath my boots worn smooth by centuries of use. The air here is warmer than the outer halls, threaded with faint magic that hums like a living thing—protective, layered, familiar. Blake insisted I stay inside the safest ring of wards while he and the others finished their planning, and for once I didn’t argue.
I thought solitude would help me think.
Instead, it helps
