Night fell over the forest like a shroud, thick and suffocating, yet the moonlight filtered through the canopy in pale, silver streams. Valentine Spade and Luther Steph moved silently among the shadows, the forest alive with whispers that only their heightened senses could detect. Liam’s growl rumbled low in Luther’s chest, the wolf restless, alert, uneasy.
“They are close,” Liam warned inside his mind. “The ones who follow the old orders. They are not wolves. Not entirely. But they are dangerous.”
Valentine shivered slightly despite herself. Her fingers gripped Luther’s arm tightly. The bond between them, severed yet still pulsing, was like a tether she could not break. It ached, it pulled, it demanded attention. She hated the intensity, yet she could not deny the comfort in having him
