Zane
By the time I reach the protected house, I can already smell the blood. Not from a distance. Not faintly. It’s right there in my nose, like a bad memory that never fades. Two warriors lie in the corridor—one motionless, the other groaning. I vault over them without stopping, because the bond yanks me forward as if a rope were wrapped around my ribs.
The next thing I feel is Elariana.
Her wolf. Her power. The white fury still vibrating in the air like the aftershock of a storm. And beside it… the scent of children. Panic. Tears. Fear.
“Open it,” I growl at someone, and before my hand reaches the handle, the door is already swinging inward.
Inside: wreckage. Blood. Broken furniture. Claw marks gouged into stone.
And Elariana is on the floor, down on her knees.
Not wolf. Human.
W
