The rogue whispered my name again, and something inside me snapped like a pulled thread.
Ronan’s hand clamped around my arm, strong and steady, meant to hold me in place. Meant to stop me. Meant to protect me.
I ignored him.
I stepped forward.
His grip tightened. “Ayla. Do not.”
I slipped out of his hold like water through fingers. My wolf moved me more than my mind did. My feet took me closer to the border, closer to the trees, closer to the creature whose broken voice seemed to reach straight into the marrow of my bones.
Ronan hissed my name behind me. “Ayla. Stop.”
I did not stop.
Every warrior on the ridge tensed as I walked past them. A few reached for me instinctively, then froze in fear or shock or respect. I did not know which. It did not matter. My wolf led the way, and I
