Fated to the Alpha Widow
Caelan moved instantly, snapping his hand over Sable’s mouth the way Maeven had before—but this time his hand was colder, stronger, more real.
Sable’s muffled sound died against his palm.
But the vow had already begun.
The runes in the room reacted anyway—lighting in a new pattern, aligning toward the basin like arrows.
The basin rippled and then… rose.
A dark shape pressed upward from the stone like a shadow climbing out of water.
Lyra’s eyes widened. “Stop it,” she hissed.
Garrick’s smile turned hungry. “Let it,” he whispered.
Caelan’s gaze locked on the basin, terror and rage twisting together. “Sable,” he rasped against her hair, “if it speaks through you again—”
Bab Populer