The chant reached a breaking point, the symbols beneath Mila’s feet burned white-hot, searing through soil and stone, climbing her legs like living fire, pain ripped through her, sharp and absolute, but she didn’t scream, she couldn’t, her lungs locked as power flooded her veins, too much, too fast.
Her wolf howled, not in fear, in fury. “Mila!” Alexander’s voice cut through the roar, raw and desperate.
She turned her head just enough to see him fighting the invisible force pinning him back, blood streaked his temple, his eyes wild, not with rage but with terror, for her.
Leon stood at the edge of the ritual circle, arms spread, face alight with triumph. “do you feel it?” he called. “this is what you were born for, not weakness, not chains. Power.”
“You don’t own me,” Mila rasped, Leo
