Ryker Blackthorne crossed into the Lycan Kingdom and set everyone on edge. The warriors at the gates didn’t hesitate, hands on their weapons, prepared for anything. Nobody liked surprises—especially not when an Alpha showed up with fifty armed wolves. Anyone could see that Ryker’s arrival was no friendly visit.
The gates of Blackthorn Keep were wide open. Storm clouds hung low, rain swept the stones, and cold wind whipped across the valley, as if the land itself was bracing for a fight.
Ryker rode up front, stone-faced, not a flicker of hesitation. It had been days since he got the photograph—a reminder of everything he’d lost, and everything he’d done wrong. He kept seeing Nyra with Kael in his mind: her posture strong, her face calm. Not broken. Not destroyed. She looked safe. She look
