Killian’s POV

The chaos is loud enough to hide a lie.

That’s what I tell myself as the ground still trembles from Scarlett’s binding, as the ancestral stones hum like a living heart, and as the pack reels in awe and terror and belief. Noise is a cover. Confusion is mercy. Victory—especially one born of miracles—creates blind spots.

I have waited my entire life for blind spots.

I stand at the center of the ancestral grounds, posture calm, spine straight, expression carved from ...