Damien's POV
The lantern burned blue.
The moment I saw it, something inside my chest split open.
I had seen that color before—too many times. I had watched bodies stiffen, flesh harden, life drain out of them as the blue light swallowed whatever they once were. Wolf shifters. Soul shifters. Azazel's kind.
And now it was here.
Alive.
Breathing.
Wearing her face.
"Hold your ground," I ordered as my men gathered behind me. My hand tightened around my sword, knuckles whitening. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out every other sound.
Maya stood frozen, pointing with trembling fingers.
"She touched the lantern, my lord. It turned blue. She's a wolf shifter. I think… I think she's Azazel."
The name landed like a curse.
Azazel.
The assassin who slaughtered my people. The monster who wore bodies like skins. The ghost who vanished every time we thought we had her.
And now—
I looked at her.
