The wolves returned when the moon drowned in blood-orange haze.
Gideon's pack sealed the clearing—a living prison of fangs and hatred.
Celia sprang before me, a flame against the darkness. "Fear nothing, Felicity! I stand with you!"
Her defiance lasted three heartbeats.
Then the gray tide engulfed her.
No.
Not her.
My body moved before thought.
I wrapped around her crumpled form as teeth tore into my flanks. Pain was irrelevant.
Save her.
SAVE HER—
Then it uncoiled.
Not the gentle "pulse" Celia spoke of, but a primal scream made manifest—
A shockwave of raw gold that flung wolves like dry leaves.
I remember only:
The gag-inducing texture of fur and cartilage between my teeth.
Vomit burning my throat as I ripped through muscle.
Celia's trembling fingers wiping gore from my lips.
"It's over," she whispered. "You came back to yourself."