----Sindy----
The smell of blood lingered in the cold night air, sharp and metallic, clinging to the back of my throat no matter how shallow I tried to breathe.
I shouldn’t have come out here.
I’d told myself I didn’t care what happened to the wolf who taunted me in the dining hall. That whatever punishment Lorenzo handed down was between him and his pack, not me. That I wanted nothing to do with it.
But my feet carried me anyway, pulling me through the corridors, past the murmurs and whispers, out into the night where firelight flickered against the dark and voices rose in savage approval.
And then I saw him.
Lorenzo.
His chest was bare, muscles gleaming with sweat, streaks of blood—Matthias’ blood—painting across his skin like some barbaric crown. His wolf still clung to him, the
