AUTHOR'S POV
The wind howled through the night, carrying the scent of blood and fear. Rhys’s fingers tightened around Clara’s wrist, even as warm blood dripped down his arm. The silver blade had cut deep—just enough to make him weak.
Above, the hooded enemy melted into the darkness. Its aim had been perfect, sharp and cruel. If Rhys let go, Clara would fall. That was the plan.
His breath came out rough, his body shaking from the pain, but his golden eyes never left hers.
“I’ve got you, Clara,” he growled through clenched teeth.
His wolf pushed forward, giving him the strength his body didn’t have. His muscles strained as he pulled her up inch by inch.
Clara’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. Her wrist burned, slick with his blood. The abyss below swallowed sound, making everything
