Chapter 35 · Cracks in the Packhouse

The spike came down and Torin caught it in his bare hand.

Silver. I heard it before I saw it. That wet hiss, like meat hitting a hot skillet. Then I smelled his blood and my wolf tried to climb out of my throat.

"Stay behind me." He didn't raise his voice. He never has to.

Kaelen leaned his whole weight into the blade. Torin held it. Just closed his fingers around cursed silver like it was the rail of a cold stair and squeezed. Skin smoked. Blood ran down his wrist and dripped off his elbow onto the steps. Did he make a sound? No. That's the part that gets me. Three years I watched this man take hits without flinching, and it still makes me want to scream at him.

I had his blood on my sleeve already. Copper, and under that something burnt and sweet. It turned my stomach.

"Four of your guard didn't answer the horn tonight." Torin's voice was flat as a frozen road. "Denner counted. You want to tell me why?"

"Ask the council." Kaelen's smile was all teeth and no sense in it. "Dawn.