Angelo
The tundra’s blinding light engulfs me, Rosalia’s voice, clear and fierce, “Elena, I’m here,” ringing in my skull as the ice runes explode, a pulse of the pack’s heart that’s both salvation and trap. I’m sprawled in the slush, blood seeping from my wounds, my wolf a faint memory as Elena shields Isabella’s lifeless body from Camila’s gleaming knife. Luca’s blood mixes with Moretti’s in the mud, his desperate stand against the Don a fleeting victory now lost in the chaos.
Moretti’s wolves scatter, their growls fading, his talisman dead, but Camila’s wild eyes, her hissed, “You’ll never find her,” reveal she’s not alone, her betrayal of Rosalia a fire that burns hotter than ever. Isabella’s sacrifice, binding the bloodline to save Rosalia, has left her gone, her pulse still, and El
