CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They drag me through the underbrush, my captors' grips firm on my arms. The earthy scent of damp soil fills my nostrils as I stumble over the gnarled roots that snake across our path. A blend of apprehension and purpose steadies my breathing; my heart beats a steady rhythm despite my precarious situation. If they only knew what coursed through my veins, what I could do.
The clearing opens up like the mouth of some great beast, and in its center sits a makeshift throne crafted from stone and timber. The alpha of these strange wolves lounges upon it, his presence unmistakable even beneath the layers of bandages swathing his torso. His furrowed brow and pained grimace speak of wounds that run deep.
"Let her approach," his voice is a gravelly command, one that seems to ec
