Moira’s POV

I can't look away. Horror roots me to the bench as Derek's mouth opens wide, tendons standing out in his neck, but no sound emerges. His back arches. The silver chains binding his wrists flare brilliant white.

A ghostly form rises from his chest where the blade pierces skin.

Derek's wolf.

I recognize the shape immediately—gray and massive, the spiritual manifestation of his wolf spirit being torn forcibly from his ...