Juliette’s POV:The sigil did not fade.Even after the wolf vanished into the forest, even after the air slowly loosened its grip around my lungs, the mark he carved into the stone remained sharp and alive. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat that did not belong to the land but had claimed it anyway.I crouched in front of it, fingers hovering inches above the etched lines.Do not touch it, the Warrior warned immediately. This mark is bound to blood and authority. Contact would invite recognition.“Recognition by who,” Bryan asked, voice low.I swallowed. “By him.”Dorian shifted beside me, his stance rigid. “You are sure this is the Heir’s symbol.”“I’m sure,” I said quietly. “I have seen fragments of it before. In old Blackridge records. In blood sealed archives Rowan never let anyone touch.”The name hung between us like a blade.Rowan.The forest creaked softly around us, branches swaying even though there was no wind. I could feel the pack’s unease ripple outward, every wolf with
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