Draven’s POV
Her fire was brighter today. Zeraphine wasn’t just sitting at the breakfast table—she was commanding attention. I couldn’t stop looking at her. Every move she made, every word she spoke, held something new. Something unyielding.
“She’s waking up,” Ronan, my wolf, said in the back of my mind. His voice was deep and calm, but there was pride there too.
Waking up to what?
“To herself. And to us,” Ronan replied, a grin evident in his tone.
The faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the dining hall, courtesy of the towering Christmas tree in the corner, adorned with golden ornaments and flickering lights. Snowflakes frosted the wide windows, and the air carried a quiet hum of holiday cheer. But all I could focus on was her.
Zeraphine sat across the table, wearing those
