Chapter 6. The Wolf’s Hour

Sleep would not come.

Mira lay tangled in her sheets, arms restless against the thin cotton, her legs shifting as if the knots in her thoughts had settled into her muscles. The air in her room was cool, brushed with sea-salt from the cracked window, but it offered no peace. Her mind replayed Kaelen’s eyes—sharp green, unsettlingly familiar—and the way her skin had tingled when his hand touched hers. That flicker beneath her skin had been faint, almost deniable. Almost.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as moonlight spilled through the glass in silver ribbons.

It wasn’t just him. It was what he stirred. That long-dead ember inside her. That trace of memory and instinct—the part she had buried so deep it no longer clawed at her like it used to. Not for years.

But tonight, it stirred.

With a quiet sigh, she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet met the floor soundlessly. She dressed in practiced movement