The moon hung like a silver crown above the valley, its light spilling over the mountains and washing everything in a pale, shimmering glow. It painted the trees, the stones, the wolves and me in silver fire, as if the night itself had chosen to bear witness. My heart still thundered from the howl that had ripped from my chest, the sound of my freedom echoing off the hills and dissolving into the stars.
The Crimson Fang wolves had gone still now, their howls fading into a charged silence. Yet their eyes still burned with something fierce—recognition, respect, and a reverence so raw it made my throat tighten. They weren’t looking at a prisoner or a weapon. They were looking at me.
But it wasn’t their eyes that rooted me to the earth.
It was his.
Jovani stood at the edge of the clearing,
