Ethan did not let go of Amelia until they were far away from the warehouse.
He carried her through the night like something precious and breakable, her weight against his chest grounding him even as his wolf clawed relentlessly at his skin. The scent of fear still clung to her—sharp, overwhelming—and it was that scent more than anything else that threatened to undo him.
She stirred in his arms.
“Ethan…” Her voice was hoarse, uncertain.
“I’ve got you,” he said immediately, tightening his hold just enough to reassure her without hurting her. “You’re safe. I swear it.”
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then memory slammed into her all at once.
She gasped.
“No—don’t—” Her hands fisted weakly in his shirt as panic surged through her. “They were there. I saw— I saw—”
“I know,”
