The carriage wheels crunched softly against the gravel driveway, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the forest. Selara's hands rested lightly on her lap, fingers tracing the folds of the dark cloak draped over her shoulders. Every detail of the forest the smoke, the tension, the clash of magic still lingered in her senses, a ghostly echo pressing against her chest.
Draven sat beside her, his posture calm, controlled, the very embodiment of alpha dominance. His golden eyes scanned the estate grounds as if no shadow could dare cross the threshold of his domain. Selara's pulse quickened, not from fear but from the magnetic pull of him a constant, unspoken tether she could never seem to resist.
