The mist still clung to her. Even now, hours after she had stepped into the veil of the waterfall, McKenna carried its scent, its weight, its damnation. Azeo could feel it radiating off her skin whenever she shifted too close, an aura of otherness that pressed into his senses and whispered things he could not name.
She had gone into those waters one wolf and stepped out something else—something ancient, something both fragile and unbreakable. He had seen it in her eyes, that flicker of red that wasn’t just rage but revelation. Something she wasn’t ready to say aloud yet. But she had said enough.
Enough to twist the knife in his chest.
Her words from the night before still cut through him. They aren’t my parents. They were McKayla’s. They aren’t wolves at all—they’re witches.
He had cle
