The silence in the grand hall was absolute, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the helicopters outside and the panicked breathing of the Ironcrest pack.

Freya looked up into Kade Blackridge’s silver eyes. She saw the storm brewing in them—the obsessive, devastating devotion that she had kept at arm

The rhythmic, deafening thud of the helicopter blades was the only sound in the cabin, a steady drumbeat that felt like the pulse of Freya’s newfound freedom. She sat nearest the reinforced window, staring down at the snow-covered expanse of the Ironcrest territory as it rapidly shrank into the dist

The Blood-Moon Syndicate’s fortress sat high in the jagged peaks of the Obsidian Mountains, a breathtaking marvel of ancient stone and cutting-edge military architecture. As the stealth helicopter breached the cloud line, Freya looked down through the cabin window to see a sprawling estate carved di