Bound to The Enemy of My Mate
One hand clawed at the sand, fingers digging deep as if seeking an anchor, while the other clenched the fabric over his heart, his knuckles white.
From their positions in the shadows, Richard and the Rennar guards watched, their professional composure cracking into expressions of stark confusion and alarm. They saw the wolf—their temporary, untrustworthy ally—suddenly convulse and fall as if struck by an invisible arrow. They exchanged sharp, puzzled stares. There was no enemy in sight, no sound of a fight. This was something else, something internal and terrifying.