Dominic:
She shouldn’t have walked out of that circle alive.
The ettin’s body still steamed in the dirt; the earth had a new, dark smell to it. But all I saw was her. Cierra—blood slicking her skin, ragged breaths tearing at her chest, hands torn to the quick from clawing at dirt like it might hold her up. She stood like a wound that refused to close. She held her chin high as if she hadn’t been pressed flat beneath monstrous weight.
Unbroken. God, unbroken.
Love was a small word in my mouth. I wanted something harsher, truer. I burned for her—an animal ache that sharpened everything else into edges.
The pack made a sound that split the air—cheers, curses, the thin crackle of something like approval. It all blurred. Every face melted into a smear of fur and teeth and the elders’ tight
