Page 113 of Wolf's Vow

He didn’t speak. He was filthy—caked in blood, dirt, ash. His knuckles were white, his fists clenched too tightly.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” I whispered.

“I ran.”

I turned my head to look at him, really look. “You got here too late.”

Wolfe didn’t flinch. Just nodded slowly. “I know.”

“But we won.” I hated how bitter the words sounded in my throat. “We held and we won.”

“You did.”

“I lost people.” My voice cracked.

“We all did.”

We sat in silence, the weight of our choices settling between us like ash after the fire. I reached for his hand without thinking and felt his strong fingers thread through mine.

“I don’t know his name,” I admitted, so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard me. “The Stonefang wolf who shielded me. I didn’t know him.”

Wolfe exhaled slowly, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still holding my hand. “Then find out. Speak it. Make sure it’s never forgotten.”

My throat tightened. I would. For him. For all of them. We sat there like that, shoulder to shoulder, bruised, spirits battered and bloody. Not speaking of love. Not needing to.

Wolfe turned toward me and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb lingered against my cheek. “Your father would be so proud of you,” he said softly.

A tear slipped over. He leaned in, forehead touching mine, and for a long, quiet moment, the war faded. The wounds didn’t. The ache didn’t. But I didn’t feel alone.

Not in this pack. And this pack?

It was ours.

Chapter 26

Wolfe

The sun roseslow and gray over the Hollow, the sky bleached of color like even the heavens were tired of blood.

Smoke still curled from the smoldering pyres. Not enough to choke, just enough to cling to every breath.

I stood at the edge of the clearing with my arms crossed, scanning the perimeter. Some were already back on patrol, though they moved like their legs were too heavy, eyes still glassy with grief and shock.

Others wandered through their packlands in silence, shifted and healed, but the shift didn’t heal the mind of what had happened. What they had endured.Thosescars, we carried with us. There was no conversation. No laughter. Just the ragged shuffle of the brokenhearted.

They didn’t understand. How could they? They didn’t know why this happened or why it kept happening.

And I couldn’t tell them.

Not yet. Not because I didn’twantto tell them it was my fault, but because I didn’t know which one of them could be trusted.

But Icouldtell the ones I trusted.

I need you all at the pack hall,I sent to them, wishing Diesel were already back. But he’d only just left, and it didn’t pass my notice that they struck when both he and I were gone. Why had I been so trusting?

I walked back to the office—my mate’s father’s old office—and closed the door behind me. The hall still bore the scent of last night’s battle, the musky tang of adrenaline, power, death.

When they arrived, I didn’t greet them. Just nodded at the chairs and waited until they were all seated.