Mason Three days had passed since we crossed the gates of Brown Stone. Three days during which my pack celebrated their freedom, buried the dead, and began planning the future. I, however, had not left this room for a single moment. The air in the healing house was heavy with the bitter scent of herbs and the suffocating presence of death. Corin lay motionless among the white sheets. If I had not seen the faint rise of her chest, I would have believed she was already gone. Her face had grown hollow, her skin almost translucent, as if the fire that lived inside her had not only consumed the enemy but also its own vessel. "Eat a little soup, Mason. If you collapse too, who will lead the pack?" Vanessa’s voice was gentle, but I could hear the suppressed sob hidden beneath it. She placed a bowl of steaming food on the small table beside me, but I could not even look at it. My throat tightened. "The pack knows what to do, Vanessa. Jax is handling everything," I answered hoa
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