Ayla's POV
The scratching grew louder.
Every wolf in the council chamber went rigid, ears twitching, eyes fixed on the heavy oak doors. The torches along the walls sputtered, and the flames bent toward the entrance, as if dragged by a breath that didn't belong here.
Kael moved first. His black wolf rippled under his skin, claws sliding out as he positioned himself between me and the door. His voice rumbled through the bond, low and lethal.
"Stay behind me, Ayla."
I rose slowly, silver fire curling faintly along my arms. No, I sent back, steady despite the pounding in my chest. They're here for me.
The doors burst open.
A gust of freezing air howled into the hall, carrying the smell of iron and decay. Three wolves shambled across the threshold, their fur matted with ice and blood, eyes glowing sickly green. Their movements were jerky, wrong—thralls.
But behind them came something worse.
