[Emma's POV]
"Don't," he pleaded, his voice raw, stripped bare. "We found the blood, Emma. Your blood, on that dirty concrete. Did you expect we wouldn't feel it? It was a yell in the dark, a call to arms that shuddered every bond, every scar, every mark in this whole pack. It was like the world was going to split in two."
The raw anguish in his voice was a bodily punch, and my chest hurt with it. But when his words rang through the room, something changed. The air thickened, electrified. A shiver of cold ran over me, and then an intense burning spread from the mark on my wrist. The water glass on my nightstand shattered, a spiderweb of cracks radiating with an audible *snap*. The light above us jounced wildly.
"Emma…" Cain's voice was a low, cautious warning, a tone one uses on a corne
