They say the prophecy ends with her.
I say it starts with me.
She walks into my territory like she isn’t mine already—
all ice-blond hair, sharp eyes, and a scent that makes every instinct in me rise.
She doesn’t know what she is.
But I do.
The packs want to use her.
The elders want to cage her.
I just want to mark her.
She bites back. Challenges me. Makes me want her more.
But war’s coming—and if she’s who the legends claim, she’s already a target.
Let them come.
I already took the first bite.
And I don’t share.
