We drove toward the far edge of Silvermoon territory, to a forgotten cliff road where patrols rarely passed. Levan positioned the corpse in the driver’s seat, coated the wagon in oil, and pulled out a flint spark.
But before I disappeared from this world, there was one last thing I had to do.
One last call. To say goodbye. To him.
I pressed Alpha Brexon’s frequency rune. My heart thudded as the bond-stone pulsed.
Once. Twice. Then—
“The Alpha is busy,” a honey-slick voice purred.
My gut tightened. “Lyssa.”
Her laugh slithered straight down my spine. “Still clinging to hope?” she sighed. “Calling him one last time, praying he’d take you back? Pathetic.”
My jaw clenched. “Put him on, Lyssa.”
“Why?” she mocked sweetly. “So he can claw you again? Remind you of how great a disgrace to the Silvermoon Howlers you are?”
I swallowed hard, fingers digging into the rune stone. “Enjoy your victory while it lasts.”
“Oh, Arwen,” she giggled, “I already have.”
I stayed silent, breath sharp, pulse thundering.
Then she said something that ripped the air out of my lungs.
“Strange, isn’t it,” she mused, voice thick with amusement, “how your little pup died… when Orrin was never sick at all.”