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She lay limp in my arms again, breath steady against my chest, the partial shift fading from her limbs as unconsciousness claimed her once more. I’d pressed the point at her neck a second time after the necklace slipped back against my skin—gentle, precise, just enough to ensure the journey home went smooth. No more fighting in the snow. No more risks of her bolting into the dark where Ironfang scouts might still lurk. I stared down at her face in the moonlight, the way her platinum hair spilled over my forearm, lashes dark against pale cheeks flushed from the struggle. One tiny beauty mark above her lip caught a stray beam, and something twisted in my gut—not rage, not possession, but something quieter, deeper. Sassy mouth, claws that drew blood, eyes that could freeze a lesser wolf mid-step. And now she was here, in my hold, where nothing could touch her but me. Ralph stepped up beside me, snow crunching soft under his boots. He adjusted his spectacles, glancing at Jade’s still form with a raised brow. “You were just showing off back there,” he said, voice laced with that dry humor he saved for moments like this. “Admit it. You would not let her get that necklace, no matter how close she came.” I didn’t look up from her face. My expression stayed blank, a mask I’d worn so long it felt like skin. “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “She fought well.” Ralph snorted. “Fought well? She almost had it at the end. If you’d given her ten more seconds—” “I didn’t.” A nod was all I gave him—no expression, no explanation. The others shifted around us. Kade cracked his neck. Tan sheathed a blade he’d drawn just in case, Eli scanning the tree line with those ice-blue eyes. And Voss stroked his beard as if he were pondering a puzzle. “Enough standing around,” I said. “Let’s move.” No arguments. We leaped back into the woods as one—six shadows melting into the night, me at the center with Jade secure in my arms. Branches blurred past in rhythmic bounds; the forest now a dark tunnel of pine and frost. Wind whipped cold against my face, carrying the faint, fading howls from Ironfang territory miles behind us now. Garrick would wake to chaos come dawn: an empty tent, unconscious guards, and his daughter vanished. He’d rage, rally allies. Then he’d march on Blackthorn’s borders not long after. Let him. Read Free on KU https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GNN3MLM7

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