†Noca's Pov†
The wet cloth only worsened the searing pain blazing across my cheeks. My foster mother, Ariadne, had pressed herbs against the burns, but nothing dulled the fire. My wolf had tried for hours, yet still the sting lingered, as if my flesh was about to rip apart.
The memory of what happened earlier refused to loosen its hold on me. No, if anything, it replayed again and again like some cruel jest, reminding me how I, an Alpha, had been beaten into a pulp by a filthy wretch from the damned West. A boy I was supposed to kill.
How he managed it, I do not know. How he dragged my legs from beneath me, made me crash to the ground with a humiliating thud before descending upon me, I cannot explain.
