The battle dragged long into the night. Wolves clashed, rogues fell, but Ronan's shadow endured.
And then betrayal struck again.
From within the pack, a wolf lunged—not at shadow, but at Kael. A knife of silver, dripping with black ichor, plunged for his heart.
Kael twisted, the blade tearing across his ribs. He roared, staggering, blood soaking his skin.
Aradia screamed, her fire exploding outward, searing the traitor into ash. But Kael fell, his body trembling, his green eyes dimming.
"No," she sobbed, her hands trembling against his chest. "Not again. Not this time."
Ronan laughed, cruel and triumphant. "He always falls. He always dies. And you always fail to save him."
Aradia's fire surged white-hot, her eyes glowing molten gold. She bent over Kael, her lips pressing to his, her fire pouring into him with desperate hunger.
"Come back to me," she whispered, her tears burning. "Come back, Kael. I promised I'd find you. Don't make me break it."
His chest heaved. His green eyes snapped open.
And the fire bent to him once more.