Serenity's POV
The moment I see Darian at the gate, something inside me stills.
Not fear. Not relief.
Calculation.
He’s bloodied. Not broken, but injured enough that the sharp edge of his presence cuts differently—raw, uncontrolled, stripped of restraint. His wolf is close to the surface. I can feel it even from here, a pressure against my senses that doesn’t dissipate when Kaelen steps forward or when the guards tighten their formation.
Darian isn’t here to argue.
He’s here to take me.
I understand the danger immediately, not in some abstract way, but with a clarity so sharp it borders on calm. If he speaks freely—if he says the wrong name, if emotion overtakes judgment—everything collapses. Kaelen does not know. Celestine cannot know. And Darian, gods help him, is the only person
