ZEUS

The night breathes in silence. The Haven always does before blood is spilled.

I move through the marble corridors like a ghost, every footstep measured, my heartbeat steady. The servants pass me, heads bowed. None of them look twice. They know better.

In my jacket pocket sits a tiny glass vial.

Vallora.

Odorless. Tasteless. The quietest of killers. Conan said five drops were enough to stop a heart, but I brought seven because I’ve seen the King’s strength, the stubborn pulse of his Lycan blood. He will not die easily.

The vial feels warm between my fingers as I pull it out in the kitchens.

A single candle burns...