Alexander first spat a string of words in Russian that sounded very harsh, and then—
“You f*****g son of a b***h!” he shouted furiously. “WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?”
“That I could make her stop being afraid,” the other answered bluntly. “It was what she wanted to hear and what no one could tell her. I told her I was a specialist. That I could get rid of you—and of that little spawn you forced her to give birth to.”
A pained yelp escaped the white wolf’s throat—a moan so full of agony as if he had been struck directly in a wound. I know, because I felt a terrible stab in my own chest, and I wished I could scream like him. His suffering touched me too closely; it made me angry; it infected me like a disease.
I wanted to support Alexander.
I wanted to help you. I had to do it, somehow—any wa
