AYLA'S POV
The square smoldered under the pale morning light.
Ash clung to the snow in black streaks, and the scent of burned fur and shadow still choked the air. Wolves—our wolves—lay scattered, some wounded, some dead, and others shivering with exhaustion as the last traces of corruption burned out of their veins.
The bond pulsed faintly in my chest, warm but fragile, like glass under pressure. Every heartbeat reminded me of how close it had come to breaking last night.
Kael moved among the fallen, his black cloak trailing ash, golden eyes bright and hard as he surveyed the damage. His wolf prowled just under his skin, restless and angry, his presence in the tether hot enough to make my lungs ache.
Rylan appeared from the alley, wiping blood from his knives. His amber-violet eyes found mine.
"We lost six," Rylan said quietly. "Three to the shadows, three to the fight. And two more… they're still on the edge. If the shadow whispers to them again, they might not come back."
