Ainsley stood in the garden behind the Crescent Moon estate, hands in the rich soil as she trimmed back the lavender hedge near the west wing. The smell was soothing, grounding. Usually, it helped her clear her head.
Today, it did nothing.
Something was wrong. Her parents had paid her another visit, and she felt like she was being torn apart.
The breeze carried whispers. Not sounds. Sensations. Flickers of half-formed dreams and gut-deep warning.
Lenora's voice echoed in her thoughts.
We want to come home.
Ainsley had told Alaric everything. Every word, every look. He had offered to bring it to Alexander and Della. But she had begged him to wait. To give her time to follow her instincts. Because something wasn't adding up.
Her mother's eyes. The mark she wore around her neck. The way her aura shimmered, not quite like a wolf's. It was older and darker, unnatural.
And then, the dreams started.
