The air grew colder as Liora's words hung in the silence, thick with unspoken tension. The Exiled Legions stood their ground, every muscle tense, eyes locked on the violet-eyed witch whose intentions were as sharp as the daggered smirk on her lips.
Cain's voice was low and steady, every syllable laced with suspicion. "You're offering Liam like he's some bargaining chip. Why would Faye willingly give up her strongest advantage?"
Liora's lips curved into a shadowed smile. "Because this isn't just about power anymore, Cain. It's about obsession. And old wounds that never healed."
Archer folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. "What are you talking about? She's had plenty of chances to use Liam for the resurrection ritual—why wait?"
Liora let out a cold laugh, slow and deliberate. "Because before Faye was a witch, before Behemoth's influence poisoned her soul… she was a werewolf. And Liam Bloom was her mate."