The Iron Claws cut their engines in perfect synchronicity, the sudden silence more threatening than the roar had been. Twenty-seven riders in formation, weapons visible, a show of force that made the Silver Fang guards shift nervously. Roxy's team fanned out in a protective semicircle, hands never far from their arsenals.
I dismounted on shaky legs, Kieran's steadying hand at my lower back. The leather of my jacket creaked as I straightened, my body remembering all too well the last time I'd stood before these gates.
"Remember," he murmured, lips brushing my ear. "Anything goes wrong, anything at all—Roxy gets you out. No arguments."
Before I could respond, the massive iron gates groaned open, and there he was.
Damien.
My heart stuttered painfully. Nearly four months had carved hollow
