Sleep didn’t last.
I’d barely dropped onto the couch, shoes still on, when the world punched through my ribs.
A sharp, jagged bolt of terror slammed into my chest, so pure and small it stole my breath. Not mine. Not Corren’s. Not any wolf in the den.
A child.
I bolted upright, hand pressed hard over my sternum, riding the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t there.
“Liora?” Dris’s voice came muffled from his room down the hall. I’d crashed in the tiny apartment above the clinic rather than drag myself back to pack lands. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I lied, because this had nothing to do with him and everything to do with stone walls and old promises. “Bad dream.”
It wasn’t a dream.
When the worst of the ice in my lungs melted, I slid off the couch, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the back doo
