The storm outside had finally quieted, but inside the fortress, the air still carried the humming tension of everything that had been broken and everything still at risk. Annabelle didn’t sleep that night. Her mind ran in endless circles—faces, voices, memories, oaths—everything replaying like pieces of a badly stitched dream.Dawn came slowly, bleeding pale gold through the curtains of the western tower chamber. She pushed herself out of bed, her arms trembling slightly. Too much had happened. The truth about Jason’s betrayal. Ashton’s near death. Bernard’s silent, unreadable stare that followed her like a shadow.She poured water into a basin, watching it ripple with tiny tremors—her tremors. She breathed out slowly.You have to be strong, Annabelle. You don’t get to break.A soft knock came at the door.Of course. Bernard.“Come in,” she said quietly.The door opened and Bernard stepped in, his cloak still dusted with the chill of morning fog. His face was as unreadable as ever, bu

Annabelle stood at the edge of the northern cliffs, the wind slicing across her face like cold steel. Below, the Rift Cavern yawned like a wound in the earth, its darkness swallowing all trace of light. The elders had sent a small contingent of guards to accompany her—but she barely noticed them. All she could feel was the weight of the unknown pressing against her chest, dragging her toward something older than memory itself.Ashton was at her side, silent but firm. He glanced at her once, his jaw tight, eyes hard with unspoken worry. Bernard trailed slightly behind, scanning every shadow, his presence a constant reassurance that she wasn’t entirely alone.“This place…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of wind. “It feels… alive.”It wasn’t just wind. It was whispers—soft, dissonant, like echoes of things never meant to be spoken. Shapes seemed to flicker along the cavern mouth, shadows that moved too deliberately to be tricks of the light. Every instinct screamed

The corridor inside the Rift Cavern narrowed, walls glowing faintly with veins of silver stone that pulsed like veins under skin. Every step Annabelle took echoed strangely, as if the sound of her own movement was being recorded, replayed, and warped back to her. She could feel the cavern observing her, calculating her responses, waiting for any sign of weakness.Ashton and Bernard flanked her closely, but she sensed even their presence couldn’t fully shield her from the cavern’s scrutiny. The air was thick—not just with moisture, but with memory, with echoes of something old and alive, something older than any wolf, any prophecy, any oath.A low hum began in the walls, growing louder, vibrating through her bones. The mark on her shoulder flared, sharp and almost painful, sending a pulse of energy through her chest. She stumbled but didn’t fall.From the shadows ahead, shapes began to emerge. Not shadows exactly—more like remnants of forms, humanoid but fractured, flickering between s

Annabelle did not move. Not at first. The words hung in the freezing air, as sharp as blades, cutting through every shred of stability she had managed to reclaim since awakening in the burned-out nightclub. The man before her—mentor, ghost, betrayer—stood with the stillness of someone who had accepted the consequences long before this moment and had simply been waiting for her to catch up.“You ended my faction,” she said softly, though her voice trembled with a fury that simmered beneath her skin like molten iron.The man—Riven, her mind whispered, a name surfacing from some buried fragment—nodded once. “I ended what it was becoming. Not what it was meant to be.”Annabelle stepped closer, every muscle in her body tightening. “You stole everything from me.”“I preserved you,” he countered. “You don’t understand how close you came to becoming the weapon the Order wanted. You were never prey, Annabelle. You were the prize.”The ground rumbled above them—metal screeching, distant gunfire

Night pressed over the estate like a thick blanket, heavy and unmoving. The lights had been dimmed, the hallways quiet, the entire place wrapped in a tension so sharp it felt like walking through glass.Annabelle could sense it even before she stepped outside her room. Something had shifted. Something was coming.She tied her robe tighter and moved slowly down the corridor. The guards stationed near the stairway bowed, but even their movements were stiff—alert, uneasy.Downstairs, the living room glowed dimly with warm lamp light. Ashton stood near the window, shoulders square, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on something only he could see. Jason sat on the arm of a couch, head lowered, hands clasped tightly. Bernard paced back and forth like a caged animal, his steps sharp and restless.Annabelle stopped at the last step.“What’s happening?” her voice came out softer than she expected, but it cut through the quiet like a blade.Three heads snapped toward her.Ashton’s expression softened im