AISLYNI don’t move.

The world can burn around me and I would still be here, kneeling in blood-soaked earth with Dyer’s weight folded into my chest like something sacred and shattered. My arms lock around him instinctively, possessive, as though loosening my hold might let death finish what I started.

His body is too still.

Too quiet.

The battlefield waits.

I feel it before I hear it, the tension stretching thin, warriors frozen in a half-breath of violence, Redmoon and Lycan forces staring ...