KAEL'S POV
The moon bled pale light over the Frostfangs as we ran.
Snow sprayed under my paws, cold air burning my lungs, but my black wolf surged faster, fueled by rage and the bond pounding in my chest. Every pulse from Ayla behind me was a drumbeat: alive, strong, mine.
Her scent threaded through the night, silver fire and pine, anchoring me as we carved a path down the mountain. Rylan flanked her, light on his feet despite the knives strapped across his chest, his eyes scanning every shadow.
The southern ridge lay ahead, and with it, the smell of rot and blood.
I slowed near a cluster of black pines, ears swiveling. The wind carried it—fresh death, threaded with Veylor's stink.
"They're close," Rylan said, his voice low, controlled. "Too close. If Cassia's already here…"
"She is," I growled, my voice vibrating through the tether. "I can feel her shadow trying to touch Ayla even now."
