Atticus lets out a sound that’s halfway between a growl and a promise. “Arrest him,” he snaps, eyes never leaving my father. “Now. If he’s not in the dungeon by sunrise, I’ll finish this myself.”
The decision happens fast after that.
Axel lifts me carefully, his arm firm around my back, and every movement sends sparks of pain through my skull, my vision swimming as I clutch weakly at his shirt. I barely register the shouting behind us, the sound of cuffs, the way Dad keeps yelling that I deserved it, because everything starts to blur into motion and headlights and the feeling of being carried somewhere I’ve never been before.
The pack hospital a few minutes away in a different hidden town in the forest smells clean and sharp, all antiseptic and something wild underneath it, and the ligh
