Rhys

The air tastes wrong this morning.

Metallic. Charged.

My Lycan shifts beneath my skin, restless, prowling the cage of bone and muscle like he’s scenting a storm before the clouds gather.

They were not hunting, he growls inside me. They were measuring.

I know.

Camille and Elira made their first move yesterday. Scouts in the tree line. Watching. Counting. Testing the edges of our settlement like wolves circling a herd to find the limping one.

My instincts scream the same truth over and over again.

They’re looking for weakness.

And Lina—her soft heart, her stubborn courage, her family—will be the first target Elira sinks her claws into.

Elira doesn’t...