Kael POV

The moon was swollen and red, hanging low over the ruined temple like a bleeding wound in the sky. The night smelled wrong, too still, too sharp. Even the forest was silent, no whisper of wind, no insect song.

Every wolf felt it.

They crouched in tense formation, amber eyes glowing in torchlight, muscles coiled tight, ready to spring. Mist slithered across the stones, thick and alive, curling around our legs like ghostly hands. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, claws ...