Lorenzo
The silence after the beast fell was almost sweeter than the roar that followed.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled—her staff pressed against the cat’s skull, my claws dripping with blood, our breaths ragged but steady, our bodies standing as one. And in that silence, I felt it.
The rhythm.
The bond.
The inevitability.
It pulsed through me like fire in my veins, my wolf howling inside my chest, demanding we claim her now, here, before the entire pack. The instinct was primal, ancient. It didn’t care for ceremony or timing. It only knew truth—and the truth was her.
But I held him back with iron will, my jaw clenched, my body trembling with restraint.
Not yet.
The fight was over. The pack’s cheers rose sharp, filling the night, their voices carrying reverence I hadn’t heard
