Sienna POV — Wyoming
The cameras went dark all at once.
Not a glitch.
Not a power failure.
A deliberate silence.
Every telecam feed across the wall blinked to black—Montana, South Dakota, Obsidian Ridge—cut clean in the same breath. The warded house fell into a hush that felt too intentional to be a coincidence.
Celeste felt it before anyone spoke.
The frost on the window was his.
Not winter.
Not Wyoming.
Him.
Thomas Calder.
The cold was pressed to the glass like breath against skin—close enough to feel, not close enough to touch. He hadn’t crossed the wards. He hadn’t needed to.
He was listening.
Sienna swallowed, her pulse slow but heavy in her throat. Her mother stood beside her, Sera’s presence firm, steady, but held tight in restraint. Sera knew. Of course she did.
Mate
