Elena
The tundra’s icy mud clings to my knees as I cradle Isabella’s limp form, her pulse faint under my trembling fingers, her confession that she bound the bloodline to save Rosalia echoing like a wound I can’t close. Angelo’s slumped beside me, his blood pooling, his eyes blazing with a mix of hope and despair as he clings to Isabella’s revelation that Rosalia’s alive, trapped in the pack’s heart.
Luca stands frozen, his knife abandoned, his whispered, “I didn’t know,” a c***k in his betrayal that I don’t trust. Moretti’s wolves circle, their growls low, his talisman’s flickering glow a promise of violence. Camila lies unconscious, her betrayal of Rosalia a shadow that lingers, but it’s Isabella’s sacrifice, her body trembling from binding the bloodline, that breaks me.
Rosalia’s a
