Then the thought of her returned.
Sabrina.
Twenty-three. Hollow Moon female. No rank worth respecting in their eyes, which meant they had never bothered to learn how much courage she had been swallowing for years.
She had arrived at Wisteria three nights ago with a split lip, three cracked ribs, bruises blooming under old bruises, and a formal rejection letter she had written in shaking handwriting because Hollow Moon did not recognize a woman’s right to leave a mate without pack approval.
Pack approval.
I had almost broken a lamp.
Caelin had almost declared war on the spot.
The only reason the Hollow Moon escort who had dragged her to our border demanding her return still had his head attached was because she’d had been standing right there, trembling, and Caelin had looked at her
