Kael's body went rigid the moment the door slammed shut behind him. The scent of wolves—Marcus's wolves—hung thick in the air, and the dark, oppressive atmosphere made every hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He could hear the faint sound of footsteps outside, the padding of paws circling the building. They were trapped.
"Welcome, Kael," Marcus's voice rang out, smooth and cold as ice. He stepped forward from the shadows, his smile sharp, cruel. "How does it feel, knowing you've led yourself right into my hands?"
Kael ignored the taunt, his focus solely on Lyra. She was still huddled against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest, her eyes wide with fear. He took a cautious step toward her, but Marcus's voice cut through the room again, halting him.
"I wouldn't get too close if I were you," Marcus said, his tone laced with warning. "She's not the girl you left behind."
