Kaelen's POV
The priest knelt before me, defiance etched into every line of his weathered face despite the restraints binding his wrists behind his back. Blood trickled from his split lip—courtesy of my guards who'd subdued him during capture—yet he smiled up at me like he knew something I didn't.
"Your goddess cannot save you now," I growled, circling him slowly.
He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed off the concrete walls of our bunker's makeshift interrogation room. "My Master serves powers far beyond your comprehension, wolf."
I fought the urge to tear his throat out. This man—this cultist—might be our key to finding Lyra and understanding Malakor's next move. Every instinct in me wanted to protect my family, but I needed information more than I needed the satisfaction of killing him.
Ronan stepped forward, his eyes flashing dangerously between human green and wolf amber. The worry for his missing mate temporarily overshadowed by the immediate threat.
