I woke to the smell of burning wood and the soft crackle of a hearth.

For a moment, I lay perfectly still, staring at the vaulted ceiling of my guest quarters. The excruciating pain in my bones was gone, replaced by a deep, hollow ache. I took a breath and reached inward, searching for my wolf.

I didn’t reach for my mask. There was no point. The way Chloe looked at me—the sneering familiarity, the absolute certainty in her eyes—told me the disguise was useless.

"How did you know?" I asked, keeping my voice perfectly level. I didn't raise my hands. I just stood in the center of the vault,

The absolute darkness of the smuggler’s tunnel pressed in on us, heavy with the scent of damp earth, spilled wine, and the sickeningly sweet tang of Kaelen’s blood.

"Keep moving," Kaelen rasped again, his voice tight with barely suppressed agony.

I didn't listen to his bravado. I slung his heavy