Chapter 26 · The Market Hunt

The wolf-blooded don't move. They just stand there, eyes glowing amber and green and silver in the dark, staring at the car. At Wren. She's stopped crying. Her little chest rises and falls, calm as anything, and those silver-gold eyes sweep across the crowd like she's taking attendance.

I can't breathe. My hands are locked on the wheel and the engine's still running but there's nowhere to go. They're on the roofs. In the alleys. Blocking every street that leads out of this intersection.

One of them steps closer. A woman, maybe forty, with streaks of gray in her hair and a scar splitting her eyebrow. She tilts her head and her lips pull back just enough to show teeth. Not a threat. Something else. Recognition.

"Whose blood is that?" she whispers. Her voice carries like we're the only two people in the world. I don't answer. Can't. Wren makes a soft sound, not a cry, just a little hum, and the woman drops to one knee. Just like that. Then another wolf-blooded does the same. Then three more.