Roxie's POV
I tore the cell door open with my bare hands.
The iron shrieked and gave, and then Vera was in my arms, and I was holding my sister in the cold dark at the bottom of the house that had broken us both. She was shaking. I was shaking. There was no time for the weeping we both deserved, so we did it fast and quiet, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
"Marcus," she gasped. "Roxie, they took him to *trial*, the council will—"
"We'll get him back." I pulled her toward the passage. "But not from a cell. Walk, Vera. We have to walk."
We did not walk alone. As we climbed back up through the dark, I broke open five more cells along the way—the gray-muzzled old wolf, a mother and her half-grown son, two thin young men who could barely stand. Five wolves who had been
