The fire snapped, shadows clawing across the ruined theater walls. Selvara’s body was heavy against him, unconscious but not peaceful—her fingers still curled like claws, her jaw tight even in sleep. Her golden eyes had burned bright until the end, flickering like dying torches before finally shutting.
Kael lowered her onto the cold stone, chaining her wrists again with a casual efficiency that made Carla’s stomach twist.
"Why bother?" Carla’s voice was sharp, brittle. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wolf sprawled there, half-naked, glistening with sweat. "She’ll try to kill you the second she wakes."
Kael smirked, wiping blood off his chest with the back of his hand. "She already did. Didn’t work."
Lyra stretched where she lounged against the wall, her smirk lazy but her gold
