Ronan's POV
I tracked the smell through the forest, moving like a ghost between the trees. Three days since Sienna had been taken. Three days of following false leads and dead ends.
This time felt different. The trail was fresh.
I froze when I spotted a figure standing in a small area ahead. At first, I thought it might be one of Kieran's scouts. But something was wrong. The person stood too still. And the air around it seemed darker, like the sunshine couldn't quite reach it.
My hand moved to the silver knife at my belt as I crept closer.
The figure turned suddenly, facing me though I made no sound. My blood ran cold.
It had no face—just smooth, pale skin where eyes, nose, and mouth should be. Yet somehow, I knew it was looking right at me.
"Ronan Voss," it said, its voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "The Phantom Wolf."
I drew my knife. "What are you?"
