The corridors of the Alpha King’s residence were quiet in the early hours, the muted light from the high windows casting long shadows across the marble floors. Celeste had barely slept, the weight of everything she had confessed to Victoria still pressing on her chest. The air in her room felt too close, too heavy, so she had wandered to the far corner near the balcony just to breathe.
Outside, dawn was breaking. Pale gold light spilled over the distant rooftops, painting the city in a fragile calm. But for Celeste, peace was a stranger.
She leaned against the stone railing, fingers curling over the edge. Every sound, the faint hum of the city waking, the call of early market vendors, felt distant, as though she stood apart from the world entirely. Her wolf was silent again, receding aft
