By the time the gates closed behind us, Blackthorne no longer felt like a fortress.
It felt like a wound stitched too tightly.
Snow drifted through the ruined courtyards in soft, deceptive quiet. The ravine battle was over—but its echoes clung to every stone. Wolves moved through the keep in hushed, wary groups, eyes following us as Kael carried me through the wreckage without once setting me down.
Some gazes held awe.
Others held fear.
A few held hatred sharp enough to cut.
Kael ignored them all.
The moment we crossed into the Alpha’s inner wing, Rowan sealed the doors behind us with heavy warding runes that flared silver, then faded into invisibility.
“No one enters without my direct command,” Kael ordered.
Rowan inclined his head. “They’re already whispering that you’ve made he
