Drake - POV
The Night Pack’s land felt colder this time. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened—or maybe it was the sight of
Opal, unconscious, barely clinging to life. Deprived of food, water, and the magic that should have been healing her wounds, she looked more like a ghost than a warrior.
The Night Pack soldiers wasted no time dragging her away to the dungeons. I didn’t stop them. I couldn’t.
Mac led the way toward his office, his gaze flickering toward me with something that almost looked like sympathy. I wasn’t sure if I hated him for it. When I stepped inside, Silas was already there, waiting.
“I heard what happened,” Silas said, his voice heavy with unspoken grief. He hesitated, then added, “My condolences… to the deceased.”
I clenched my jaw, nodding once.
