I bent over with my hands on my knees, gasping breath into my lungs to try and still the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. The smells were horrifying, a combination of blood and smoke and burning flesh – I closed my eyes, willing myself to find the strength to deal with this. And absolutely, incontrovertibly convinced this attack was my fault.
“Charlotte.” Kenyon laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright?”
I forced myself to straighten up, ignoring the nausea churning in my stomach. “Kenyon. I'm so sorry.” What else was there to say, what else could I do? There was death and destruction everywhere I looked.
“We've lost nearly half the pack,” he stated, his voice as desolate as his eyes. “Many others are injured.” His eyes flickered to where Conal knelt beside his mot
