Chapter 11 · The Price of Mercy

"Don't move." Cain's hand locked around my wrist before I cleared the tunnel mouth.

"Why?" I stumbled into his back. "What is it?"

"My old pack." His voice dropped. "And they're waiting for me."

The tunnel had dumped us into moonlight. Pine replaced blood and stone, but the clearing ahead offered no escape.

A dozen men stood around a half-collapsed chapel, blocking the path to the border road. They weren't wolves, not in body. Their shoulders were squared, their eyes bright, and every one of them looked ready to tear us apart.

One man stepped out from the group. Tall. Broad. Cropped dark hair. His pale eyes settled on Cain with the cold patience of a hunter.

"Cain Ashe," he called. "Been a long time."

Cain didn't answer.

His pulse battered through the blood pact between us. Fast. Uneven. Close to breaking.

"You know them?" I whispered.

"Rex brought them." Cain's jaw tightened. "The tall one is Dorian. He used to answer to me."

Rex leaned against the chapel wall with his arms crossed. He looked nothing like the desperate man who'd chased us through the tunnels.