" The path of the Lycan has already been drawn"}
The scent of salt and battle still clung to me as I stepped into my home, the weight of the night settling into my bones. My body ached, not from wounds, but from exhaustion—the kind that went deeper than flesh, the kind that settled in the soul.
I stripped off my clothes, letting them fall to the floor before stepping into the shower. The water ran hot, scalding even, but I didn't flinch. I let it wash over me, let it carry away the tension, the blood, the weight of the fight. But it couldn't wash away the thoughts circling in my head. The vampires. The retreat. The inevitable return. And Rou.
By the time I stepped out, the air in my home had shifted. I could smell them before I saw them.
Spark. Wave. General Tiger. And Ralph.
They had arrived in silence, bringing food as a peace offering—or maybe just an excuse to sit and wait.
