Vanc

e on the streets after being exiled had taught me a few things about basic first aid. Using the strip of cloth from my unifo

just watched me, his golden eyes filled with a mixture of fear and a fragile, eme

the high, dusty walls until I found it-a small ventilation grate near the ceiling

ess she-wolf, the effort was immense. Each crate I lifted sent a jolt of pain through my protesting muscles

, his gaze filled with a silent, worried

stood beneath the vent. I carefully lifted the

ined. "You have to go through here. Run into the forest and don't

ollar of my shirt. He didn't want to leave me. A w

sted, my voice firm.

g. He looked back at me one last time, his golden eyes shining with unshed tea

ade me dizzy. My strength gave out. The crate ben

fe

ete floor with a sickening crack. Pain, white-hot and blinding, ex

onan's face, cold and merciless as he rejected me. I saw Isolde's triumphant, venomous smile. I heard the pack

lplessness-it all coalesced

a

pure vengeance that consumed all the pain and weakn

wore on the grave of my mother and the soul of my lost child, if I surv

mind. I hoped he was safe. It was the last shred of s

w growls outside the warehouse door. But it was too late. I was already