Elara’s POV
"I'm going to... die." I whimpered again, this time louder, wetter, more dramatic because it was true. Tears slipped down my dirt-streaked face as Ian and Drake dragged me like a sack of useless potatoes through the never-ending, nightmare-fueled death maze we’d been dumped into. And I was ninety percent sure that if our group’s victory didn’t hinge on all three of us surviving, they’d have happily left me behind a dozen traps ago...possibly as bait.
Drake was snarling under his breath the entire way. Ian wasn’t even pretending to hide his loathing anymore. And me? I was a mess. My boots were squishing with mud. My ribs ached. My face was bruised from dodging a swinging blade trap five minutes ago, well, attempting to dodge.
And Myra?
My usually sassy, sarcastic wolf?
She
