THE CHOSEN ONE
he said, his voice low and sharp.
The bald man smiled. A crooked, mocking smile. He narrowed his one eye, as if amused by the idea of provoking an alpha.
"Vardam Bowen," he said, unfazed, "is the last warlock of the Bowen bloodline."
A dull thud hit my chest. I shrank without realizing it, my gaze darting from Max to Icarus, searching for answers where there was only tension.
"Warlock?" I murmured, mostly to myself, the taste of the word strange in my mouth.
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