The Black-Ridge manor was a fortress of obsidian and iron, tucked deep within a valley that the sun seemed to avoid.We made it inside just as the temperature plummeted. Outside, the red fog began to claw at the windows, and the sound of scratching—thousands of claws against stone—filled the air."The wards are holding, for now," Rowan panted, leaning against the heavy oak doors of his private study.He looked at me, and the tension in the room shifted instantly. The adrenaline of the fight was still coursing through my veins, and the Beast was pacing inside me, restless and hungry."You’re shaking," Rowan observed, his voice dropping to a low, velvet hum."I'm not cold," I whispered.I walked toward him, my boots clicking on the marble floor. The black mark on his neck was still glowing, a tether that pulled at my very soul."This bond," I said, reaching out to touch the mark. "The Beast says you're anchored to me. That if I bleed, you choke."Rowan caught my wrist, his grip firm. "T
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