Casius POV
Two figures stepped out of the shadows.
They emerged slowly, deliberately, as though the darkness itself had parted to make room for them.
The first was a witch.
Her black veil obscured her face, but it could not hide the power crawling over her skin. Thick, inky runes burned across her hands and forearms, pulsing with a rhythm that made the stone beneath Casius’s boots vibrate. The surrounding air reeked of scorched herbs and old blood—magic pulled from places that should have stayed buried.
The second figure needed no introduction.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Golden hair catching the firelight like a crown he’d already claimed.
Alpha Thomas of Black River.
His posture was loose, confident, as if he’d stepped into a tavern instead of an ancient torture hall beneath the pala
