I stumbled over a root that looked suspiciously like a petrified femur. The ash on the ground was thick, coating my boots in a fine, gray powder. There was no sound here. No wind, no birds, no rustle of leaves. Just the deafening roar of my own blood rushing in my ears, fueled by the stolen fire of an Alpha.
I was a lantern in the dark.
My skin was practically vibrating with Guilermo’s energy. It kept the unnatural cold of the Hollows at bay, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth that made me sick to my stomach. Every step I took was paid for with his life force.
Stop it, I told myself, clutching the strap of my bag. Don't think about him. Think about the Altar.
But I couldn't stop thinking about him. Because I could feel him.
Even through the walls I had built, even through the lie I had
