“I want answers,” Brexon snapped, voice sharp as tempered silver. “What’s happening to my daughter?”
“It has begun,” Harlan exhaled heavily. “Just as I warned before. Her lunar core is destabilizing. If we don’t act soon—”
“Then do something,” Brexon snapped.
The healer hesitated. “She needs a blood-moon transfer. But her lunar signature is rare. Only one wolf in the pack matches her.”
My stomach twisted as Romano’s gaze shifted to Brexon.
“You, Alpha.”
Silence devoured the corridor.
Brexon’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the shift in his aura—the dangerous ripple that warned of an alpha pushed to the edge.
“Then take whatever you need,” I said quickly. “Just save her.”
Romano nodded, but before he could respond, the clinic doors swung open.
A she-wolf stepped inside. Tall. Elegant. Not a rogue—no rogue carried themselves with such poise. Her fur-lined cloak shimmered with enchantment, her heels clicking sharply on polished stone, but panic flickered across her face.
My breath caught.
Lyssa.