Standing frozen in the biting snow, Neve leaned upward and whispered his plan directly into Skarr's ear.
His words were low, barely carrying over the howling winter wind that whipped through the clearing. He laid out every detail of his idea with ruthless precision, leaving no room for error.
As Skarr listened, a dark, wicked gleam ignited in his golden eyes. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face, his sharp fangs glistening in the faint light.
Across the snowy expanse, Soren squinted through the icy fog, trying desperately to make out what they were whispering. The distance and the shrieking wind muffled their voices completely, but he could tell they were plotting.
Soren's brows furrowed as his eyes locked onto the tall, imposing figure beside Neve. Recognition struck him like a splash of ice water, and his chest seized.
