The pack did not sleep that night.
Neither did Nixon.
Sleep required peace.
Required calm.
Required a mind that was not consumed by the image of a blind healer being dragged into the darkness while calling his name.
Nixon had none of those things.
The moon hung high above the territory, casting silver light across the training grounds where warriors gathered in growing numbers.
Word had spread quickly.
The Blind Healer had been taken.
Talia.
The woman who had saved pups.
The woman who had healed warriors.
The woman who had brought Rosalie back from the edge of death.
The woman who never asked for payment.
The woman who smiled at everyone.
Even strangers.
Even rogues.
Especially the broken.
And now she was gone.
The pack was furious.
But no one was angrier than Nixon.
H
