SIERRAShe’d left before the battle.Not because she was a coward — she wanted that noted, even if only to herself, even if there was no one in the room to note it to. She’d left because she’d looked at what was coming and understood, with the specific clarity of someone who’d been watching and listening and noting for months, that staying meant being buried in whatever collapsed.And Sierra had no intention of being buried.She sat in a farmhouse two miles from Redmoon’s eastern border and watched the glow of the palace fire through the window.Rogers, she thought.She didn’t know if he was alive.She didn’t know what came next.She knew the binding had released — had felt it, everyone with Lycan blood had felt it, the specific severance of something that had been present so long it had felt like weather.Gone now.Rogers, she thought again.CLARAEvergreen Pack. The throne room.Clara was reading the latest tribute report when the messenger arrived.He came in fast — too fast, witho
Read more