The air hung heavy and still in the ancient clearing, disturbed only by the whisper of leaves under Adrian's silent steps. Twenty years had passed since the nightmare of Mount Zero, and this abandoned castle, a place whispered to be haunted by royal ghosts, had become his sanctuary. He scanned the treeline, his senses finely tuned to any disturbance, a habit forged in the crucible of his past.

Then, a new scent drifted on the breeze: honey lemon, intoxicating and strangely familiar. It was laced with something else—witch and Lycan blood, a hybrid. His Lycan stirred, a low growl rumbling deep within him. Hybrids were abominations, outcasts. Yet, this scent drew him in, a curiosity he hadn't felt in decades.

He waited, hidden behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak, watching her approach. When she was close enough, he moved, a blur of motion, grabbing her neck and slamming her against a tree. His grey eyes, now glowing in the moonlight, narrowed. "Who are you? And what are you doing on my land?"