Calla did not look back. She led the captives through the trees with steady steps, even as her chest burned and the bond throbbed like a bruise pressed too hard. Valenti men flanked them, silent and alert, following her without question. That terrified her more than the wolves. Because they weren’t following Adrian anymore. They were following her.
By the time they reached the extraction point, dawn was breaking pale and cold over the ridge. The rescued women were loaded into armored vehicles, wrapped in blankets, trembling but alive. Medics moved quickly. Lorenzo appeared, eyes sharp, taking in Calla’s expression in a single glance. “Where’s the Don?” he asked quietly. Calla didn’t answer at first. Then: “He’ll come back when he’s ready.” Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. “The packs won’t wait.”
