The moon was stupidly bright. I could see the shine of every wolf’s eyes in the tree line.
Cassian’s pack held the eastern flank of the clearing. They were dead silent. Real wolves don't need to talk.
I could just smell them—pine needles, damp soil, hot breath, and a faint, metallic tang underneath it all. Adrenaline.
Selene’s crew held the west. They were still in human form, but the moonlight caught their eyes wrong.
Not entirely human anymore. After weeks of running drills with me, the wolves inside them were wide awake and clawing at the doors.
Everybody was waiting for me to say something profound.
I didn't.
I vaulted onto a flat granite slab at the edge of the clearing and dropped into a low crouch. I pressed my palm flat against the freezing stone. Silver fur spider-webbed
