Lyla’s pulse hadn’t settled since the figure disappeared.

She stood at the edge of the clearing, the cold night air clinging to her skin. Behind her, Eli and Jonas were quiet. The tension between them was sharp enough to cut.

The bodies of the Ridge wolves had been moved. Jonas had insisted on helping with the burial silent, steady but his hands had trembled when he touched the bloodstained fur.

Lyla had wanted to say something.

But there were no words for this.

No words for the ...