The Alpha’s Heat
By dawn, we’d followed the residual magic left from Rowan’s abduction deep into the north ridge, where the trees turned silver at the edges and frost kissed the ground even in August.
“This place doesn’t belong to the Hollow,” Kael muttered. “It’s borrowed, claimed by something older.”
“Older than werewolves?” I asked with curiosity.
Kael gave me a side look. “You still think I’m the monster in this story??”
I didn’t answer.
---
Hours Later.….
We crossed into what Kael called “the Grey Hollow”. The trees had their sap pouring, Crows circled above us, silent and watching. The magic was thicker here, pressing against my bones like a second skin.