Kael’s Point Of View
The echo of my roar hadn’t even finished trembling through the trees before I caught it—the sharp, metallic scent of fear. Not from the dead bastard at my feet. Not from the other rogues fleeing like rats behind me.
No.
Her.
It hit me like a punch to the gut, her fear, sharp and cutting, curling through the air and wrapping around my throat like chains.
I turned.
She was pressed against a tree, body trembling, hands clenched in the fabric of her shirt, eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at me like I was the monster. Not the rogues. Not the bastards who dragged her screaming through the forest.
Me.
And I swear to the gods, I could practically smell the terror rolling off her in waves. It tangled with the scent of pine and blood and the raw violence that still clung to my skin like war paint. I took a step toward her, carefully. Slowly. And that’s when she screamed.
“STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
It ripped through the trees like a whip, sharp and frantic, hitting me squar
