Her mouth opened, breath caught between a scream and a plea when suddenly—
"Wait."
The word rang out, clear and commanding.
The crowd froze. All eyes turned as the sea of bodies parted like rippling water.
There he was.
Lyander.
He moved with slow, deliberate steps, his expression carved in stone. His presence was like a storm rolling in—low, dark, and full of warning.
Liora watched the shift in the pack's energy. Even the most defiant wolves stepped aside, lowering their gazes as he passed.
He came to a stop between Jason and Henry, his sharp eyes flicking between the two of them.
"I won't allow this," Lyander said flatly, his voice ringing with quiet authority—like steel striking flint.
His gaze never wavered, burning into Jason like twin blades of ice. "Henry is barely a man—much less one who can fully shift. If you want a duel for the right to lead, then I'll gladly take his place as his champion."
