Lorraine's POV
Maeryn ran.
The moment her eyes locked on Avelar's father's lifeless body, something inside her shattered completely. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply turned and ran, her bare feet slipping on blood soaked earth, white hair whipping behind her like a ghost fleeing the grave it had just dug.
Avelar didn't follow.
He stood there, frozen, chains dangling uselessly from his wrists, his face emptied of all expression as he stared at his father's corpse. Not rage. Not grief. Just…. nothing. Like something vital had been carved out of him and left behind in the dirt with the dead.
"That," my wolf said quietly beside me, "was the beginning of the end."
My throat tightened. "Because she killed them."
"Yes. She killed the Pack Leader. And dozens of warriors." Her voice was steady, but beneath it lay an old, aching sorrow. "And the pack needed someone to blame."
The scene shifted again.
