The peace lasted only a few days.
At dawn, wolves returned bloodied, their golden eyes wide with fear. "He took them," one gasped. "Ronan took our kin."
Aradia's chest tightened.
Kael snarled, his claws sliding free. "Where?"
But before the scout could answer, Ronan appeared himself.
He stood at the ridge, his copper hair wild, his amber eyes burning with shadow. At his feet knelt wolves bound in black chains, their bodies trembling, their eyes glowing red.
"They are mine now," Ronan said, his voice echoing unnaturally. "As she will be."
Kael shifted, his massive wolf snarling, but Ronan only laughed.
"You see, witch?" he called to Aradia. "Your fire feeds me. Your love weakens him. And soon, when he falls—as he always does—you will be mine again. Just as you were meant to be."
Her fire blazed, but fear coiled inside her chest. Because in his words, she felt not only threat—but memory.