The taste of iron and ash still lingered on Gwen's tongue, but it was drowned out by the phantom heat of Kaelen's lips—a kiss that hadn't just been a claim, but a calculated execution of her past life.
The armored truck hummed with a low, vibrational power as it climbed the winding mountain passes toward the heart of the Crimson Fang territory. Inside the darkened cabin, the air was thick with the scent of pine needles, leather, and the heavy, metallic musk of an Alpha who had just won a war.
Kaelen sat across from Gwen, his massive frame taking up nearly half the bench. He watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He didn't look at her like a prize won in a skirmish; he looked at her like a riddle he was finally beginning to solve.
"You didn't flinch," Kaelen said. "When he used the Alpha Voice. Most wolves would have had their eardrums shattered by a command of that magnitude. You didn't even blink."
