Lyra’s boots scraped against frozen earth, her lungs burning as the hunter’s grip crushed her wrist. She twisted, kicked, clawed, but his strength was inhuman, his pale eyes gleaming with the cold certainty of someone who thought he’d already won.
Behind her, the clearing thundered with chaos—wolves snarling, blades clashing, men screaming as steel met flesh. Her heart screamed with it, torn between the pull to fight back and the paralyzing fear that maybe she wasn’t strong enough, not yet.
The hunter yanked her deeper into the woods, away from the blood and moonlight. His hood slipped back fully, revealing close-cropped hair and a jagged scar that cut across his temple. “Stop struggling,” he hissed, voice sharp as broken glass. “It’ll hurt less.”
Her wolf surged, furious at the command
