Opal's POV
The moonlight slanted through the high windows of the Alpha's study, casting long streaks across the floor. The fire crackled low in the hearth, but the room was anything but warm.
Opal stood near the bookshelves, arms folded, the weight of the day sitting heavy on her shoulders. Kael sat at the desk, his head bowed, jaw tight, fingers steepled in front of his lips.
She could feel it—the tension humming between them, thick and electric.
"I need to find her," Opal said quietly.
Kael didn't move. "No."
She blinked. "That wasn't a question."
His eyes lifted to hers—dark, stormy, unreadable. "And that's still my answer."
Opal exhaled slowly, trying to keep her voice even. "Selene could be the key to defeating Azeala. Lyssandra said she was a healer—powerful. She helped werewolves before. If there's even a chance she knows something, I need to talk to her."
