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His gaze flicked down and caught on the scratches embedded into the animal’s skin, the bald patches in its fur.

Graeson relaxed his muscles. Animals, he knew, could sense fear and hesitation. Monsters knew when someone approached them with hate. And Graeson knew all too well how fear had its way of sinking into its victim’s skin, flowing into its bloodstream and tainting it. Feeding it—fueling it with more fear and hate. Once fear had a hold of you, there was no going back.

Graeson was a monster, though, too. He feared no man, no beast. He was something someone had created and birthed for war, then abandoned.

He feared something far greater than an individual or death. He feared losing hope.

All this creature knew was fear.

Perhaps this animal, whatever it was, was more similar to Graeson than he first thought. It just needed someone to reach out a hand.

The creature inched closer. Its snout pressed against the skin of Graeson’s hand, and Graeson exhaled. His hand stroked the top of the creature’s nose, and instead of retreating, the animal leaned into Graeson’s touch. With his other hand, Graeson scratched beneath the dragon-wolf’s chin, and the animal turned its head slightly. As he did, someone gasped behind him.

The corner of Graeson’s lip twitched into the faint mark of a smile.

“Do you have a name, little monster?” Graeson asked, continuing to scratch its chin.

Bright blood red irises blinked at him.

“A name?” Armen asked, shock coloring his voice.

Graeson shrugged. “Everyone deserves a name.”

“What? Do you plan on keeping it?” Armen asked.

Graeson rolled his eyes. Like that was Graeson’s choice to make. The animal hadn’t even tasted freedom yet. Graeson would not take that away from it before it even had a chance to feel the wind beneath its wings.

“I believe the question actually is, do you plan on keepingher,” Moris corrected.

“What?” Armen asked, taking a careful step toward Moris. Now that Graeson was distracting the animal, the others seemed more comfortable moving around again.

“Look,” Moris said. “It’s a female.”

“Congratulations,” Armen mused, and Graeson shook his head, feeling the eye roll boring into the back of his head.

Faint footsteps sounded behind him, and Graeson knew who it was before she even spoke.

“Graeson,” Dani warned.

“What?”

“Release it.”

Graeson dropped a hand and peered at the collar. He reached forward, and the animal stared at him, questioning his movement. That, or questioning why he had stopped scratching her jaw.

He petted the jaw once more. “Don’t worry,” Graeson whispered. “I’m here to help.”

The beast huffed, but she shifted, giving Graeson clear access to the collar.

After inspecting the metal, Graeson reached for one of the throwing knives he had retrieved from a Frenzian’s body.

A sorrow-filled noise escaped the animal’s lips at the sight of the blade.

“Helping,” Graeson reminded the animal. He held the dagger near its nose, blade flat in his palm.

The animal sniffed it, then huffed again.

Taking that as much of a sign of approval as he was going to get, Graeson reached for the lock. He unlocked the mechanism with some maneuvering, and the chain fell to the ground with a clang. Graeson stepped back.