Nolan POV
Blood slicked the ground beneath my boots.
I barely registered it as I tore through the last line of rogues between me and the packhouse. My lungs burned, every breath sharp with smoke and iron, but adrenaline kept me moving long past the point where my body should have failed.
Ellie.
The thought was a knife in my chest.
Her scream—that scream—still rang in my ears, even over the chaos of battle. I’d felt it through the bond like a lightning strike, her terror and pain crashing into me so violently it had nearly dropped me to my knees.
Even after Alaric had taken over on the front lines, it had taken a concerted effort for me to make it this far. The packhouse was in view now, but still out of reach.
The forces here were concentrated. Dozens of rogues
