MasukJULIAN'S POVHer name was Ruth Alvarez, and she had been deaf since she was two.She taught American Sign Language three nights a week in a community room above a laundromat in Somerville. I found her through a flyer on the bulletin board at the public library. I paid her for private lessons, cash, at nine at night after her last class had gone home, and I didn't tell anyone in the pack where I went.The first night, she watched me try to sign my own name and laughed so hard she had to sit down.She typed on her phone and held it up. You have big hands and no patience. Bad combination.I'd been told I had no patience by Alphas, Council elders, and my own Beta. It had never bothered me before."I need to learn fast," I said.She read my lips and shook her head. Then she typed again. Why?I thought about what to tell her. In the end I told her the truth, or the part a human could hear. My wife couldn't speak. She signed. My wife had left me. I'd been married to her for five years and ne
HAZEL'S POVI sat on the porch with the rubbing of the Blackwood seal in my lap until the sun went down.Somebody in that house had taken my family's file nine days after they burned. Somebody who sat at the same table I'd sat at for twenty years. Somebody whose son I'd married.I thought about Margaret's moonseed. I thought about Arthur, carrying me out of the ashes, and about the letter he'd written and left with Thatch instead of keeping it in his own house.Trust no one who tells you the fire was an accident.Who had told me that, all my life? Everyone. The pack. Margaret. Julian, once, when I was eight and had asked him why my family was dead and his wasn't."It was rogues," he'd said. "It was an accident. Stop asking."I didn't know whether he'd believed it. I didn't know anything about him anymore.Cole came out and sat on the step below me, moving carefully because of his stitches. He didn't say anything. After a while I showed him the rubbing.He looked at it for a long time.
JULIAN'S POVTeague put me on my back in the training ring for the fourth time in twenty minutes.He stood over me in fur, panting, with his ears flat. Then he shifted back and crouched down beside me with his hands on his knees."Again?" he asked.I lay on the packed dirt and looked at the sky. My wolf was still twisting inside me. Every time I tried to shift in the ring, he went for the rope behind my ribs instead of for Teague's throat, and I lost a half-second I didn't have. Against my Beta, a half-second meant a bruise. Against Desmond Lowe, it would mean my throat."Again," I said.We went again. He put me down again.Afterward, Milo brought us water. He'd come to every session since the hall. He had a yellowing bruise under one eye from where he'd hit the floor. He held the bottle out to me without being asked."Thanks," I said."My dad says you're not sleeping," Milo said.Teague cuffed the back of his head. Milo ducked and grinned.I drank the water and didn't answer. He was
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVEHAZEL'S POVThe cut along Cole's ribs wouldn't close.Any other wound would have started knitting by morning. A wolf could take a knife between the ribs and be walking by lunch. But this one was still open at dawn, the edges gray and raw, and it hadn't stopped bleeding."Silver," Cole said through his teeth. He was lying on the kitchen table on a pile of towels with his face the color of putty. "It'll heal like a human wound. Slowly. If it doesn't go bad first."I'd already boiled the water.My mother's notebook had a page on silver wounds. I'd read it a dozen times as a girl without knowing why she'd written it. Now I knew. I washed the cut with yarrow water until the gray edges turned pink. I packed it with comfrey and plantain and stitched it shut with the fine silk thread from my sewing kit, eleven stitches, while he gripped the edge of the table and stared at the ceiling.When I tied off the last one, he let out a long breath."Where did you learn that?"I tou
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURJULIAN'S POVI woke up at one in the morning with my heart trying to come out through my ribs.I wasn't dreaming. I knew that at once. I was lying in the dark with every muscle locked, and the pull under my ribs had turned into something else. Something was pouring down it toward me from very far away, the way water pours down a rope.It was fear. Pure, white-hot terror.It wasn't mine.I'd felt fear come down the link a thousand times, from warriors on patrol and pups lost in the woods. It never felt like this. This came from the place where the rope was tied, behind my heart, the place I'd been telling Ines for two weeks didn't exist.Hazel.I was on my feet before I knew it. My wolf was screaming. He wanted to run, and for once I wanted to let him, but I didn't know where. The fear came down the rope from somewhere north and east, and that was all it told me. It got worse and worse until I was holding on to the bedpost with both hands.Then it spiked so hard tha
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEHAZEL'S POVMy note was gone from the cannery two days later. Cole checked. The half-carved wren was gone too, and the map and the list of names. The bedroll was gone. The ashes in the ring of stones were cold."He's moved camp," Cole said. "He knows we found it."The gray wolf didn't come to the fence that night, or the next.On the third night, something else did.I was in the kitchen, setting dough to rise for the morning. It was nearly one. Cole was out on his rounds, and I could see the lamp in the boat-shed window from where I stood.The lamp went out.I stood still with my hands in the dough.Then I heard it, far down the garden. It was a sound I'd only ever heard in pack challenges, a deep, ripping snarl, and then a second voice answering it, and then a third.Three wolves. Cole was one wolf.I wiped my hands on my apron. My heart was going so hard I could feel it in my throat. I took the short knife Cole had given me out of the drawer by the stove and pul







