The war room was thick with tension and the scent of pine and steel.
Kylian stood at the head of the long oak table, maps spread before him, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The scouts had returned with grim news — Chase had taken Rachel deep into the northern forests, to an old, hidden outpost once used by rogue factions. His brother was not acting like the sweet, playful Chase he had grown up with. This version was colder, more calculated, more dangerous. He had orchestrated his own “death,” manipulated the packs, and now kidn*pped the woman carrying his child.
Kylian’s hands gripped the edge of the table until the wood groaned.
“He’s changed,” he said, voice low and rough. “The brother I knew would never have done this. He was kind. He laughed easily. He dreamed of peace, not po
