Ronan waited until the compound slept.Not truly slept, Silvercrest didn’t know how anymore, but the halls were quiet enough that footsteps echoed, and even whispers carried too far. Only then did he move.Lyra followed him through the Alpha wing, past the carved doors reserved for leadership bloodlines. She had walked these corridors before, but always under guard, always watched, and always reminded that she didn’t belong.Tonight, Ronan didn’t assign her a guard.He was her guard.They passed a locked stairwell that led deeper into the mountain side of the compound. Ronan paused at the base of it, listening for several long breaths. His posture was relaxed, but Lyra could sense the readiness beneath it, like his wolf was coiled under his skin.Then he reached into his cloak and pulled out a metal key.Not iron.Not silver.Blackened steel, etched with symbols that looked older than the council hall itself.Lyra stared at it. “Where did you get that?”Ronan didn’t look at her. “From
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