(Isla)
The second runner comes at dusk.
I’m in the bakery with Hana and two of the younger girls with flour everywhere. The bread for tomorrow is rising and the smell is warm and safe.
Then the bell rings. Not the bakery bell. The border bell.
Three long rings.
Visitors. Official. With a message.
Everyone freezes.
Hana wipes her hands on her apron. “Stay here,” she says but her voice shakes.
I don’t stay. I can’t.
By the time I get to the hall, the whole pack is already there.
Four Crescent Moon guards at the doors and in the middle of the floor: one Silver Creek runner. No weapons. Four elders behind him. Older men. Silver Creek colors and between them, on a silver tray: a parchment. With a red seal. A wolf.
Kieran is standing in front of it. Not touching it.
His beta
