Kai POV
The heavy oak doors of the packhouse splinter into kindling as I crash through them, Atlas’s fury driving me forward like a runaway freight train. The grand foyer is a warzone of shattered glass and blood, but I don’t stop. The pack link is a chaotic storm of shouts and snarls, but my entire being is focused on one single, frantic pull.
Liora. Her wildflower scent cuts through the heavy smoke and the rancid musk of cursed rogues, acting as my only compass. I vault over the ruined remains of a crushed mahogany table, taking the stairs to the basement three at a time. The air grows colder the deeper I go, suffocatingly thick with the metallic tang of dark magic, the acrid burn of silver, and that inescapable, cloying cloud of overripe lavender.
I hit the basement landing just as a
