Chapter 53. Shackled Hearts

The courtyard bristled with the quiet tension that always preceded a hunt. Torches flared high atop iron sconces, their flames clawing at the darkness like restless spirits. The flickering light painted the stone walls gold and crimson, casting long shadows across the assembled warriors. Each man stood at attention, their expressions impassive—trained. Disciplined. Ready to kill.

Raymond stood among them, the weight pressing against his ribs like a second heart. Sweat clung to the back of his neck beneath the collar of his shirt, though the night air was brisk. His fingers flexed at his sides, curling and uncurling. No one else would have seen the tremor in them, but he felt it. Felt it deep.

Magnus had not yet emerged from the keep. But soon he would come striding through that archway, eyes alight with the thrill of the chase, and Raymond would fall into step like the loyal Beta he was meant to be. The loyal hound. The broken father.

His gaze drifted upward, drawn