The leather boots stopped in front of my cell.
A few seconds of silence.
Then, the key turned.
The click was smooth—almost elegant.
As if this cell were a parlor, not a torture pit.
The door opened, and the scent of mint and leather hit me instantly.
Irina.
The lycan captain.
The shadow that walked beside the king.
The woman who didn’t need to growl for everyone to know she could kill with a smile.
And that’s exactly what she did when she saw me:
She smiled.
“Kael,” she said softly, as if we were in a garden and not surrounded by stone and dried blood. “Finally awake. You look… like an Alpha who’s seen better days.”
I didn’t answer.
I held her gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not your enemy,” she continued as she stepped closer. She wore dark leather gloves, hands cros
