Cierra
The world didn’t just shift.
It tilted, as if fate reached down and pressed a finger against the fabric of reality, bending everything I knew into something darker, heavier, inevitable.
The shadows retreated, but the cold they left behind lingered—sliding under my skin like ice water, coiling in my lungs. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to put distance between my mates and whatever had spoken from the treeline.
But I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
Because Dane’s heartbeat was fluttering beneath my palm—weak, uneven, too faint—and Dominic’s hand was clamped around my waist, grounding me, anchoring me to the one truth cutting through the chaos:
They were mine.
And someone wanted to break us.
Dane exhaled raggedly and sagged against Dominic’s chest.
“Cierra,” he whispered,
