Three days after the whispers started, border patrol brought news.
"Someone's approaching," Marcus reported. Breathing hard. "From the south. Heartlands direction. Alone. Moving slow. Like—" He paused. "Like they're dying."
My stomach dropped. "Who?"
"Can't tell yet. But Alpha—" He met my eyes. "They're asking for you specifically. Calling your name. Begging for audience."
I knew. Before he said it. Before confirmation came. I knew.
"It's him," I said. "Jasper."
Ronan's head snapped around. "No. He wouldn't. Not after—"
"He would," I interrupted. "If Serenya was telling the truth. If he's really dying. If—" I couldn't finish.
"Then we send him away," Ronan said. "Before he reaches the den. Before he—"
"No." I stood. "If he came all this way. If he's dying. If—" I swallowed hard. "I need to see. Need to know if—"
"If you still care," Ronan finished. Voice flat. "If the bond still pulls. If part of you wants to save him."
