The healers arrive within minutes—pack members from the mountain compound, moving with practiced efficiency through the chaos. They load Ricky onto a stretcher, his breathing shallow and wet, blood soaking through the bandages Cade wrapped around his ribs. I watch them carry him toward the vehicle, my destroyer wolf screaming to hunt, to tear apart whoever did this, to paint the forest red.
But I let them take him. The healers' compound is deep in the mountains, a sanctuary carved into stone and protected by wards older than any living wolf. If Ricky's going to survive, that's where he needs to be.
River's voice cuts through from the porch—sharp, lethal. "Treeline!"
I'm on my feet instantly, Cade rising beside me. "I'll stay with Laney," Cade says, his hand already on his knife. "You go
