He stared at me, something new flickering behind his eyes.
Not desire.
Not dominance.
Respect.
“We’ll increase surveillance on Silvermoon territory,” he said finally. “If Lyra is attempting to anchor the stolen heir, it will destabilize both packs.”
“Then stop her,” I said.
Nicero shook his head. “This is not a Blackfang problem.”
I met his gaze steadily. “It is a me problem.”
A long pause.
Then he nodded. “Then we prepare for war — not because we seek it, but because you will not face this alone.”
For the first time since I crossed the Frostline Pass, I felt something warm settle in my chest — not a bond, not devotion, but something sturdier.
Belonging.
Not to a mate.
Not to a memory.
But to the wolf I was becoming — one the Moon could no longer break.
