We head straight for the elevator, but I pause, eyeing Caron and Vincent.
“You both better come with us.”
They stiffen like I just told them I found a body in their car. But they follow—reluctantly, nervously, like two kids summoned to the principal’s office… who definitely did something.
The second we step off the elevator, chaos hits us in the face like a frying pan.
Eric is on the floor, full-grown warrior curled up and sobbing. Not subtle sobbing. Ugly crying. There are actual snot bubbles.
All around him, seasoned fighters—warriors who have seen war, survived rogue attacks, and killed for the pack—are plastered to the hallway walls, faces pale, arms scratched, eyes wide with absolute horror. One even flinches when he sees me.
Caden’s hand immediately comes to rest low on my back
