"Darcy, you just walked out of a pack exile," Landon notes, turning to look at me with a rare flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. "Your pulse is running fast. You're bleeding off raw tension.""I'm not bleeding tension, Landon," I reply, my voice dropping an octave as a strange, deep warmth begins to hum beneath my sternum—a sensation that has been growing stronger every day for the past month, a dark, heavy pulse that feels entirely un-human. "I'm starving."We descend the wet concrete steps into the pit. The air hits me like a physical blow: cheap liquor, sweat, ozone, and the thick, iron tang of wolf blood.In the center of the underground arena, a massive reinforced steel cage stands illuminated by harsh floodlights. Inside, a hulking wolf-shifter in mid-transformation—his jaw elongated, razor-sharp fangs dripping saliva—is currently beating a rival fighter into the blood-soaked dirt. The crowd is roaring, placing frantic bets with Redgrave syndicate bookies."Look who finally
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