☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade probes the tender flesh with his fingers, obviously not convinced by my complaints that he’s only wasting time and that I’m perfectly fine. He takes his examination further by placing my foot flat on his palm. I don’t hold back the snort that springs up at the sight. My foot is disturbingly miniature in his hand, which is pretty hilarious. To magnify my amusement, I kick him hard in the chest. This levels him to the ground, but I’d forgotten on whom my weight was also balanced. I lose the oxygen in my lungs for a split second. I go down, but Wade’s arms cage me in, and though I trip, I eventually tumble on him. Not the softest landing, but all limbs are intact. I howl like a laughing jackal because that was comic as hell. Wade hisses, and I know he did not find my act one to bring merriness or cheer. I pinch him for the sake of it, seeing the grave cast he still has on. “Oh, lighten up, Wade.” The irony of the moment is not lost on me because usually, he

☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "Nice kill, by the way." Absalon lowers his head at the wolf I killed. I roll my eyes internally. Never have I seen a worse faker. He acts as if he only recently noticed the carcass, even though he stepped on it to get to me. I wish I could kick him in the balls, but I can't bring my leg to budge. What an asshat! "Why the hell are you here!" "For you, my dear. I've already said before. I want you." Yuck, yuck! I want to chuck up the toast I had at his feet. "There, there." He wipes stray tears from my eyes. I can only move my eyeballs, but I can't blink. Hence, a sheet of water dripped out, signalling that my eyes were drying out, courtesy of the wind's recent breezy stroke. "Don't look so offended, Luna." I pass a hiss of air scathingly. Oh, please. How would he know? I can't even move a damn muscle in my upper face. "Fuck off." "Oh, feisty too. Just like your mother." It's not much surprise he knew my mother. She was a witch, after all. Of course, she mu

☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ I can't stop thinking of her. Tonnar is crawling with rogues. I must fight and drive them out. Yet, I can't get my wife off my mind. She must be safe, I hope. She's in the hands of one who loves her; I know the Crestengalt will not let harm come to her. Despite his covetousness of her, I'm convinced that I did not make the mistake of letting her leave with him. If all goes well, they shall soon reach Guttenbrieg by dusk. Perhaps, I might be a tinge more at ease if a man I wholly trusted was with her, but it'd not been viable. I already sent Jerald on my honour to inform the pack of the anticipated looming danger from Cillian. While I've never hated a creature more than I do him, I've come to glean through experience that the odious things he says are rarely jokes, despite how incredulous they may sound to an untrained ear. He promised to make Saskia his and take back the pack. My response to that nonsense is he'll have the permit to do so over my rotting corpse

☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ A scowl overtakes my cast as I set eyes on the fair-headed man bent over a walking stick, not from age but for a ruse. "Missed the train home, Whelan?" The bitterness yet stored within seeps into my tone. "Whelan?" The old, heavy voice rumbles like a clap of thunder rolling down the beak of a mountain. Long ago, in a distant land bound by time, I'd been a lad afraid of its owner. "I imagined I was once Seanathair to you, Mikael. Ain't it so, Cillian?" Cillian pulls further out from the woods—left untouched and spared from Saskia's dismantling—at the query. I do not give the coward a chance to voice his opinion. "You mean nothing to me. I don't remember a grandfather. Nay, I recall a sadistic fiend who gloated in sacrificing others for his evil causes—his family included." As patronising as the word might ever entail, Whelan corrects, "Family means naught without loyalty. I attack not those under my wings. You must've understood that by now, Alpha of Guttenbrie

☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade is a damned liar. I should have known better than to trust him to tell me the truth about how he felt. Even more annoying is that he clearly fooled me with his charms. While I often harped on the fact that werewolves could make themselves more attractive to others through their supernatural magnetism, I'd forgotten the fact that, in specific, they could conceal defects about themselves. In my state of despair, I'd become easily subject to his prowess. He'd gotten the chance to disguise the true extent of his injuries. If I say I'm not entirely beyond pissed off, then I'd be telling a lie—something those I cherish as friends and family seem adept at doing when I'm involved. "You don't need to do this." Wade coughs, a shadow of himself, having drained up to half the quota of blood in his body. I eye him in irritation. Is there any time he doesn't annoy me like it's a hobby of his? "I'll do what I want, Wade. Kindly shut the fuck up while I do." I want to