Moira's POV

The underground prison reeks of silver and old pain, but I force myself to breathe steadily as we descend toward Casper's remains. Lucas's hand grips mine like a lifeline, his fingers intertwined with mine so tightly I can feel his pulse hammering against my palm.

Maya walks ahead of us, her movements fluid and confident in a way that makes my wolf restless. There's something about her that doesn't quite fit—too collected, too sure of herself ...