WESLEY’S POV
The fire in the hearth hissed low, throwing long shadows that danced across the stone walls of my private chamber. I didn’t move. I sat at the edge of the war table, a goblet untouched beside me, the taste of metal already bitter on my tongue.
She was alive, and not just alive, she was adapting. That was the word the scout had used.
She was training under Crimson Fang. With Jovani.
My hands curled into fists again at the thought. That bastard had taken her. Moulded her. Turned the broken girl I handed over in chains into something else entirely.
What exactly, I didn’t yet know.
But I would.
I pushed to my feet and paced toward the tall window that overlooked the valley below. Moonshade was cloaked in silence, rooftops glimmering under silver frost. My reflection in the
