Lorraine's POV
I don't know how long we've been fighting. Minutes? Hours? Time felt distorted, like the chaos had its own rhythm, one I was struggling to match.
Blood coated the marble floor of the auditorium. The scent was thick, iron, rage, death. My chest heaved as I ducked another attack, pivoted, and drove my claws into the gut of an elite boy I vaguely recognized. His eyes widened in shock. He tried to say something, but no words came. He collapsed. Gone.
I had just killed him.
My hands shook for a moment. I couldn't afford to mourn. Not now.
My wolf was awake, there, rumbling beneath my skin, but she wasn't guiding me. She wasn't lending me her strength. She was watching… just watching.
"I could use you right now," I hissed through clenched teeth as I turned, slicing through another attacker's shoulder. "We're kind of in the middle of something!"
Nothing. Just her silence. Her weight.
She wasn't leaving me…. but she wasn't helping either.
