FORTY-FOUR | WILD RAVINE

Atticus

With smug, tired satisfaction, Atticus guided his wolves home. His body ached from the exertion of shiting, but it was a pleasant, muscular ache that told of a job well done. Idly, he stretched out his long, bulky limbs as they walked.

Now that Lily was gone – and he brushed over that thought quickly, patched up the hole it left with memories of the battle won – every wolf able to shift had fought by his side. Save for four of his spies, of course – all of whom were otherwise indisposed in the searches for Lily and the Red Ripper pack.

He’d lost three of his own in the fight. Atticus didn’t care. Not when they’d decimated Wild Ravine, thus securing Blood Moon’s reputation for the month ahead. The summer fights were more brutal, more bitter, more bloody; he and his pack needed to be prepared.

Others in his pack wo