Luke listened without interrupting, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of my hand. The warmth of his touch should have been distracting, but the gravity of what I was telling him kept me focused. By the time I finished describing Daniella's nightmares—the voice, the threats, the impossible knowledge—his jaw was clenched so tight I could see the tendons straining in his neck.

"A psychic attack through the mate bond," he said slowly, as if testing the words for their impossibility. "I've heard stories. Old stories, from before the Great Division. But I've never seen it. Never thought it was actually possible."

"Neither did I. But Daniella isn't a...