“No.”
The word left my mouth like a blade.
It cut clean.
It did not shake.
The Shepherd didn’t flinch.
Ronan’s scream tore through the clearing, raw and animal, his body arching as the silver mark erupted in light. Veins of moon-bright power spidered across his skin, burning, breaking, consuming.
I caught him before he hit the ground.
His weight slammed into my arms, and for one horrifying second, I thought he was gone.
The crowd gasped.
Some cried out in protest.
“Stop it,” someone begged. “You’re killing him!”
The Shepherd’s expression finally shifted—not anger, not fear.
Regret.
“I warned you,” he said softly. “Pain doesn’t make people stronger. It makes them desperate.”
“Get out,” I snarled, power cracking the earth beneath my feet. “Now.”
He didn’t move.
Instead, he li
