Axel and I are still buried in the war room when the knock comes, sharp and deliberate, the kind that carries authority without needing volume, and I look up instinctively because no one knocks like that unless they expect to be let in. Axel straightens immediately, attention snapping outward, and when the guard opens the door a second later he steps aside without comment, his posture shifting into respect so fast it tightens my spine.
The man who enters is not someone I recognise, but my wolf does, or at least she reacts like she does, lifting her head inside me with a low, assessing awareness that makes my pulse thud harder. He is tall, lean, silver threaded through dark hair pulled back neatly, and his presence settles into the room like a weight finding its place rather than something
