The air beyond the Sovereign Hold tasted wrong.
Aria felt it the moment she crossed the threshold, like walking into a memory that had soured with time. Blood, fear, desperation. Not Damien's lands. Not neutral ground.
Pack ground.
Her chest tightened, not with longing, but with resistance. The bond stirred again, unstable, fraying at the edges like a rope left too long in the sun.
Damien sensed it instantly.
His hand brushed the small of her back, not possessive, not guiding. Present. Steady. A reminder that she was not stepping into this alone.
The guards had formed a wide perimeter near the outer ridge. Torches burned despite the early hour, their flames restless in the wind. Wolves stood in half-shifted forms, tense and alert.
At the center of it all lay a single figure.
On his knees.
Bleeding.
Liam Blackwood looked nothing like the Alpha who had rejected her beneath the pack moon.
