CONNOR POV
I could smell them.
That was the first problem.
Not just the stale residue of old magic or the lingering rot we’d already traced to this place, but something fresh—present, aware, watching us from somewhere just beyond the reach of my vision. The kind of presence that prickles along the back of your neck and makes your instincts start screaming before your mind can catch up.
Someone was observing us.
And I didn’t like it. Not one f*****g bit.
That, combined with the knowledge that the wraiths weren’t just feeding but actively trying to wake up something ancient and ugly, turned the pressure inside my chest into something sharp and volatile.
We had one hour.
One hour before midnight.
One hour before whatever ritual they’d been planning crossed the point of no return.
On
