Wyatt’s POV
The sun had disappeared behind the horizon. The chessboard was being set at the reserve. Surrounded by collapsed building, debris, and giant cracks across the ground. It felt like ghosts were there, watching everything unfold.
This time Wyatt could not afford to underestimate his foe. He’d lost Emma. Lost Robin. As he looked around at his friends, family, and Priscilla, he knew he couldn’t handle losing anyone else.
Not even the purebloods.
There Wyatt stood, in the eye of the hurricane, waiting for the impending storm. Eva and Claude were prepping the ritual. Gathering together lotus flowers, pomegranate seeds, an ankh, and tracing symbols of a sun disk in Priscilla’s blood over the cracked concrete.