Chapter 16. The Wolf That Would Not Kneel

Alaric was gone by dawn.

Seraya stood at the edge of the camp, her boots sinking slightly into the dew-soaked grass as she stared at the trail he had left behind. The impressions were deep and deliberate, pressed into the earth by someone who had known exactly where he was going. There was no sign of haste in them. No stumble. No hesitation.

He had walked away, not fled.

There had been no word left for her. No message carved into bark or stone. No quiet farewell murmured through the bond in the dark hours before morning. Only absence.

She pressed a hand to her chest, searching inward. The bond was still there—anchored, alive—but muted, as though wrapped in layers of shadow. She could no longer feel his pulse beneath her own. Couldn’t trace his presence in the way she had gro