Dawn found Sasha back in her room, sitting on her bed, staring at the wall.
She hadn't slept. Couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Theo's face. Those empty eyes. That torn throat. The way his body had already started to crumble, like he'd been dead for days instead of minutes.
She'd stayed in the woods after Luc arrived, watching as the two enemies—because that's what they were, weren't they? Vampire and werewolf, centuries of hatred between them—worked together to secure the scene. Luc had wrapped Theo's body in his jacket, gently, carefully, like he was tucking a child into bed. Rhys had circled the clearing, searching for tracks, for evidence, for anything that might tell them who'd done this.
They'd barely looked at each other. Hadn't spoken except when necessary.
