The black box hit the grass at our feet and started beeping.
A single red light blinked on top, steady and merciless. My mother was still in my arms, her body trembling against mine after Damien cut her free from the tree. Lyra stood beside us, one hand pressed to a bleeding cut on her side, eyes wide but steady.
The bond between Damien and me screamed, a live wire of his rage and my own rising panic. I felt every beat of his heart through it, every flex of his fingers as he stayed glued to my side, knife drawn, body angled to shield us all.
I didn’t think. I dropped to my knees, still holding my mother with one arm, and pried the box open with the other.
Inside lay a small silver collar, the same kind used on newly shifted wolves to suppress their first change. A note was folded bene
