The courtyard was eerily quiet after the chaos of the battle. The air still crackled with the remnants of power, the scent of blood and sweat hanging heavily over the scene. The ground was littered with the bodies of Marcus's wolves, some still breathing, others lifeless. Kael's pack stood victorious, though they were battered and weary. They had won the fight, but everyone could sense that it wasn't over.
Lyra knelt in the dirt, her hands shaking as she cradled Kael's head in her lap. His breathing was shallow, his body covered in wounds from the brutal fight. Blood matted his hair, and his face was pale, but he was alive. That was all that mattered to her right now.
"Kael," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. She brushed the hair back from his forehead, her fingers trembling. His eyes fluttered open, the pale green of his irises dimmed by exhaustion, but when he looked at her, a weak smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
