Camille

The stone walls of the tunnel press in around us as we move, their surfaces slick with moisture and age. The hidden cave systems beneath these lands are older than any clan, older than the lies that fractured us. My boots scrape softly against the rock, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the darkness.

Good. Silence is safer.

My grandmother moves ahead of me, her back straight despite the miles already behind us. I can feel her anger like heat rolling off her, sharp and focused. It mirrors my own—but where hers is honed into a blade, mine is tangled with something uglier.

Pain.

Betrayal, my Lycan snarls. Never...