The man before her stood in the newborn sunlight like a contradiction given flesh. The dawn seemed to hesitate upon him—unsure whether to bless or burn.
He was Kael. Every line of his body, every tilt of his head whispered the same primal command that once made the strongest wolves bow. Yet beneath that—threaded through the air like a discordant note—was something else. Something older, hungrier.
Lyria's breath caught in her throat. The bond that once hummed between them now felt… wrong. Distorted. When she reached inward for Kael, she no longer found the steady pulse of her Alpha's soul. Instead, she felt a storm—wild and chaotic, edges fraying into nothingness.
"Kael," she whispered again, as if the name might summon him from within.
He tilted his head. The faintest smile curved his lips, beautiful and unsettling. "You say his name like it belongs to you."
Her blood went cold. "It does."
