CHAPTER 36: DANGER LURKS
The moon hung low, bleeding pale light through the thinning trees, casting silver-edged shadows like ghostly fingers across the encampment. A brittle wind stirred the leaves, and with it came a scent—faint, almost forgotten.
Catleya’s scent.
It clung to the earth, to the fabric of the healer’s tent, to the soul of the male who had begun to fall for her.
And to the wolves who wanted her back in chains.
Leira moved like smoke.
Her hands were steady. Too steady. As if her rage had finally congealed into calm, and now she was nothing but precision and purpose.
Tonight, she wouldn’t miss.
Not like last time.
Her first attempt had been brash—an emotional reaction spurred by envy. But she had learned. Rage could blind you, but hate… hate could sharpen your senses
