Page 18 of The Panther's Price

The forest shifted around them as they walked, swallowing the silence like it was just another ghost with teeth. The trees here were tall and skeletal, gnarled roots curling up through broken stone like claws trying to remember how to grab. The air smelled of ash and rain. Every now and then, distant howls echoed from nowhere—a chorus of things that used to be human but had forgotten how to act like it.

This was the Shatterroads.

Veil-born trails that twisted logic and space, paths that followedmemoryinstead of maps. They ran between crumbled kingdoms and half-buried temples, laid atop bones of wars older than memory.

Lucien didn’t offer direction. He just moved like he knew the way.

Always ten steps ahead. Always watching the shadows. And always sayingnothing.

Evryn followed.

Because where else could she go?

Her boots crunched quietly over dead leaves and shattered charms scattered along the path—bits of old wards and brokenglamours, cast off like snake skin. She clutched her coat tighter and eyed the jagged sky overhead, a mix of mauve and storm-brewing silver.

After what felt like an hour, Lucien finally spoke.

“How did you know who I was?”

His voice was low and even. Still sharp, though—like he kept it honed out of habit.

Evryn glanced at him. He hadn’t turned his head. Just kept walking.

“You said your name,” she replied.

“You didn’t just recognize my name. Youknewit. You knew the House. The Queen.”

She hesitated. Then sighed. “Eamon.”

Lucien slowed slightly, but didn’t stop.

Evryn continued. “He raised me. My whole life, pretty much. He wasn’t just some guy with a shotgun and a grudge. He was—” her voice caught, and she took a breath, steadying herself, “—he was part of something. Before me. He never said what, not really. But he taught me things.”

“Like shifter bloodlines?”

“And the Houses. How they ruled. What they controlled. Who to avoid.” She shrugged. “He made me memorize the lineage of the Court of Claws like it was bedtime stories.”

Lucien let out a low sound. Not a laugh. Not quite.

“So he raised you for war.”

Evryn’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “He raised me tosurviveone.”

That shut Lucien up for a bit.

The wind picked up. Cold and curling through the branches like it had claws.

Evryn’s fingers fiddled with the bone charm around her neck.

“I didn’t understand it, not back then,” she said, softer now. “Why he made me learn all that stuff. Why I had to train whenother girls my age were… I don’t know, dating. Watching trashy shows. Living.”

Lucien didn’t comment. But she could feel him listening.

“He said I had something in me. Something dangerous. Something that needed protecting. From others… and from myself.” She looked down, voice falling quieter. “He was scared of what I might become.”

Lucien’s steps slowed again.

“And you?” he asked, voice unreadable.

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