Roan's hand was over my mouth and his arm was a band of iron across my chest, and he was dragging me back through the chaos of the dying torches toward the dark beyond the standing stones.
The bond screamed. Cain was somewhere in the black, roaring my name, but the Founding Moon had come apart into a hundred panicking packs and Damien's loosed wolves, and there were bodies between us, and I was being pulled the wrong way fast.
So I did what a Beta's daughter raised on the bottom rung does. I went limp.
Roan, expecting me to fight, adjusted his grip for half a second and in that half-second I drove my elbow back into his ribs and my heel down onto his instep and twisted, and three years of learning how to slip out from under people bigger than me turned into one clean wrench, and I was f
