“Anson was gracious enough to offer sanctuary. This is Westvale, Noa.” Leo’s tone was gentle. “In the Carmag territory. You’re safe here.”
“No place… safe.”
“Anson has powerful wards,” Fallon explained, while the Alpha of Carmag shifted his weight. “Layers of protection surround Westvale. His men helped evacuate survivors from Azul. They came within an hour of the attack, and the Carmag have opened their doors to those who want to stay.” She leaned close enough to put her hand on mine. “We were lucky, Noa.”
“Lucky?” I remembered my vision of houses, exploding in flames. Black smoke roiling. And Amal, striding down a ruined street with a smile on her face.
“Gray—” Fallon sucked in a breath. “Last summer, he added more wards around Azul. Amal triggered the alarms. People had time to get away, hide. Hattie and Oscar. Leo. They were in Sentinel Falls that day. Amal never went beyond Azul. She was only interested in the archive, in retrieving her book. She burned buildings. Destroyed part of the town. We had casualties, but not as bad as it might have been.”
“How… many?”
Leo grunted. “Save it for another time.”
I stared at my hands, one held by Leo, the other by Fallon—shackles of a different sort. It was Fallon who asked Anson, “When will Caerwen and Effa return?”
“I’ve already sent word.” He’d crossed his arms, rocked on his heels while glaring at me. “Are you able to control the syphoning?”
I nodded, the mess of my hair tumbling around my face. My fingers trembled. Fallon tucked my hand beneath the blanket and levered herself to her feet, braced awkwardly on the crutches but resolute and commanding. Without Grayson, Fallon was Alpha for the pack. She was their protector, a defender against all other alphas. Respect was owed to the Alpha of Carmag, gratitude for the guest status. But Anson either respected Fallon, standing between him and her wolves, or she would explain it to him the way powerful, arrogant alphas explained everything.
With aggression.
Her upper lip wrinkled. I imagined her wolf growling when she asked, “What about Gray?”
“What about him?”
“Have you changed the wards?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Anson’s expression hardened. “He doesn’t deserve safe passage.”
“Says the arrogant ass who still has his feelings hurt.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Under duress.”
“You.” he snapped, so sharply he could have bitten off the word. “Need me. You need my protection. My wards. My generosity. Would you prefer a human medical facility? With your metabolism, they’ll prod until you’re bruised. And what about Noa—burning sheets? That’d be a shit-show for you.”
I’d never heard Anson so formal. Stern, like a lecturing father. Was he ever going to throw fecking into the mix? Or his trademark, “man?”
Anything would make me feel easier.
Fallon’s canines flashed. “Gray’s the best healer you’ve ever known.”
“And he can’t be here.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” Anson glared at Fallon. A long-standing argument, then. One neither had won. “He agreed to it.”
“Agreed to what?” I asked, my voice raspy but stronger.
Anson leveled that deadly gaze on me, and the flash of electricity, the aggression in him, skimmed across my skin. A wolf with a bite strength one hundred times more destructive than any natural predator, and evident in his tone as he said, “I’ve warded Westvale against intruders. That includes the Alpha of Sentinel Falls. He won’t cross the wards unless he wants a problem with me, something he won’t do while his people are under my protection.”
“Hostages.” I couldn’t help myself.
