“Don’t move,” I hissed.

Neither of them listened.

Killian straightened, his chest still heaving. Blood tracked the corner of his mouth, bright against the sharp line of his jaw. Behind me Luka pushed himself upright, the tremor in his hands already hardening into rage. Two predators, one silver, one gold circling, daring the other to flinch first.

I could feel it rising in the air: the static of wolves about to snap, the gravity of violence about to find a home.

“Say what you came ...