Jace

The clearing glows like it’s breathing.

Lanterns hang from the low branches, warm amber light swaying with the evening breeze. The scent of pine, smoke, and something sweet—honeyed bread, maybe—wraps around me as the entire community gathers in a wide circle. Lycans and werewolves shoulder to shoulder, elders leaning on canes carved with old sigils, kids perched on logs or sitting cross-legged in the dirt, eyes bright with curiosity.

My heart is trying to beat its way out of my ribs.

Easy, my Lycan murmurs, pacing inside me, claws clicking against bone. This is not a fight. This is a claiming.

Stevie stands at my side, close enough that...