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107 | HEMLOCK AND WOLFSBANE

“Haile!” Dad’s voice burst through the darkness. I couldn’t see him, but I could see the colours of his voice – all warm tones, terracotta and brown and burgundy. It felt warm and safe, and I wanted to stay there.

“You did this to her,” he snarled, and though the words were not directed at me the colour changed, no longer warm and safe but as bright as lighting and as hot as flame. “You nearly killed my daughter!”

“I did it for your own good,” said another voice, sickly-sweet and painted in shades of lilac and rose pink. Flora. “For the good of the pack.”

Was that… Was that how I’d once sounded? Was my duty nothing more than delusion?

“She’ll be all right, Xander,” murmured Nana Baspy. Like Dad’s, her voice was warm and bright – fire and passion and endless, burning love. “She’s the strongest wolf I know.”

I wanted to get out of here. I needed to help Ares. We had to stop Mum and Etta and Johnea. I needed to tell them everything Flora had said –

Blearily, I opened my eyes. The sunlig
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