"Time to check on our unwelcome guest," I sighed, the words tasting like ash and bile as I reluctantly extracted myself from the pile of supernatural beings and baby wolves that had taken over our living room. The air itself seemed to thicken at the mention of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as if the house itself recoiled from what festered in the detention center behind the packhouse.
Kieran's hand found mine immediately, his presence a steady anchor against the dread crawling up my spine. My mate's jaw was set in that particular way that meant his wolf was close to the surface, protective instincts screaming warnings about letting me anywhere near Victoria.
"We'll come," Maksim decided, his voice grave as he gently transferred Riot to Maria's waiting arms. The three-week-old pup whimpered
