POV: Araya Varrow
Ronan had returned three days ago without our son.
He'd walked into the Moon Citadel with five fewer warriors than he'd left with, covered in ash and vampire blood, his eyes empty in a way I'd never seen. When I'd asked about Lucian, he'd simply shaken his head and walked away.
Hadn't spoken to me since.
The other Direwolves told me fragments—a rescue, a battle, an escape. They spoke of Thornhaven burning, of hybrid power that had made vampires spontaneously combust, of a bond so visible it had burned gold and red in the darkness.
They spoke of the vampire prince who'd been chained beside our son. The one Lucian had refused to leave behind.
But none of them would tell me where Lucian was now. Whether he was alive. Whether he was coming home.
So I'd waited. Alpha of Alphas, ruler of Drevalon, reduced to standing on the Moon Citadel's highest tower and searching the northern horizon for a son who might already be dead.
