Rhydor's POV
I sprinted into the crowded pack house yard, the smell of burning wood and thick gray smoke choking my throat.
I skidded to a stop near the main steps, my eyes widening at the destruction.
Thick black soot covered the front doors, and small fires still flickered along the stone pillars.
"Rhydor!!"
My mother was frantic, running back and forth across the blood-stained grass, screaming my and Nicholas's name until her voice rasped.
She kept looking under wreckage, grabbing passing servants by their shoulders, and searching every corner with terrified eyes.
My father was marching away toward the eastern tree line with a heavy squad of elite pack warriors, heading in a direction I could not see.
I rushed forward, intent on leaping past the stone steps and diving straight into the burning doorway.
A broad guard lunged forward and grabbed me by the shoulders, his rough hands clamping down hard enough to bruise.
He yanked me back with a violent jerk.
