KAEL'S POV
The battlefield had gone still.
Too still.
Every warrior—mine, hers, theirs—was on one knee, heads bowed like some invisible hand pressed them into the dirt. The only one still standing was me.
And Ayla.
But she wasn't standing the way she should. Her body trembled in my arms, her skin blazing with runes that weren't just glowing anymore—they were alive, silver fire crawling over her like veins of lightning.
She looked less like my mate and more like something pulled out of prophecy.
And the creature—no, the monster, the abomination I should have torn apart—was kneeling before her. Not defeated. Not destroyed. Kneeling.
My wolf clawed at my chest. Instinct screamed at me to end this, to cut it down before it touched her again, but some primal part of me knew: if I moved against it now, I would be moving against her.
And I couldn't.
