The house was too quiet. Too still. The kind of silence that made every creak sound like a scream.

I’d been sitting by the window for what felt like hours, watching the moon drift through the clouds. The glass was cold beneath my fingertips, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw the guard’s face—the lifeless stare, the blood pooling beneath him, the sound of Kristen shouting orders.

The scent of smoke and iron still lingered in my hair.

The pack house had gone into lockdown, warriors ...