The weight of my enchanted blade pressed against my thigh as we hurried toward his obsidian-runed moon-carriage.
Maybe he was right — having someone who understood this life, who didn’t require a gentler version of who I truly was — might be exactly what I needed.
But love? That could wait.
For now, we had a message to deliver.
Marcellus’s shadow-forged vehicle roared down the stone pathways of New Lycan, weaving with supernatural precision. My claws nearly punched through the handle from gripping too hard.
“The southern entry will be guarded,” I said, pulling up the docks’ territorial wards on my screen. “We need another approach.”
“I know one.” Marcellus swung sharply, tires screeching like angry spirits. “Used it centuries ago when the Moon Council sniffed around my… shipments.”
“Your shipments?”
“Let’s just say the Ashenfell Alpha line has roots everywhere.” His grin flashed dangerously. “Including the docks you’re worrying about.”
We rolled into a narrow gap between two abandoned forge-houses. The salty wind carried hints of incoming storm-magic as he killed the engine. Through the iron fence, shadows shifted — Wintermoon wolves.