Malachai's POV.
Candlelight flickers against the cracked stone walls of the ruined cathedral that I call home, for now. Rain pounds the broken stained-glass windows. I'm standing by the altar, sharpening my silver blade. Sarah enters. She's soaked from the rain outside. Her voice is low.
"I found her."
"Where?" I ask without looking up.
"With them." She pauses for a second. "With him."
My hand pauses on the blade. I let it linger for a second. Then I resume my sharpening.
"Go on."
Sarah hesitates before answering me again. She looks around the empty cathedral like she's looking for someone to help her deliver the bad news.
"She spent the day with his pack. She didn't come back last night." She sounds nervous.
My blade screeches against the stone as it stops.
"She slept with him?
