In the Silver Ridge, time was not measured in minutes, but in the rhythm of the hunt. Hudson Montgomery stood before the monolithic stone gates of the High Hall, his cloak billowing in the mountain wind.

Nearly an hour had passed since the appointed time of the dissolution ceremony. Avery was nowhere to be found.

Hudson’s blood simmered. It wasn't that he had arrived early out of some hidden sentiment; it was the restless, predatory energy that had clawed at his gut all morning. Avery had been the one begging to break the Mate-Contract, so he had finally decided to give the "Dormant Omen" the freedom she craved.

He pulsed...