(Bardolph POV)
I crossed the Northridge border with twelve riders, one chained elder, and enough shame to make every mile feel deserved.
Farkas rode beside me despite his bruises, refusing a healer until Daciana heard what Lowell had died to reveal.
Boris had tried to flee before sunset, but my warriors caught him near the old river bridge with Ashina’s bloodied shawl hidden in his saddlebag.
He now rode with silver chains around his wrists, sweating like a man whose lies had begun to eat through his skin.
I should have felt victory in dragging one traitor toward the truth, but all I felt was the empty place where Daciana’s trust once lived.
Every tree near Northridge smelled of her escape, and my wolf followed that faint scent like a starving beast denied water.
“She may refuse to
