Dragonfly gasped. Collin pulled her close and buried her against his chest, eyes clenched shut. He wanted to block it out, all of it.
Don’t listen... don’t listen...
And then—steel.
A sword slid free. The sound cleaved through the night like defiance rising.
“Iwillkill you if you touch him,” growled the blade’s fearless master. Nic, his voice low and full of ice.
"Stand down, wolf!"
“I am not yours to command.”
Nic’s voice rang like iron—fierce, unflinching, brimming with hatred.
"I said stand down!" Eric’s voice cracked like a whip. "I’m your commanding officer! Obey—or I’ll teach your father how to build houses with one hand."
Aries’s voice came next, barely a whisper. Urgent. Pleading.
"Nic, don’t."
Collin couldn’t breathe. His pulse roared in his ears. Eric would kill Nic for this—or worse, wait. Wait and strike where it would hurt most. His family. His future.
Please, Collin prayed silently.Please, Nic, don’t do this.
At last, the sword slid back into its sheath, and Collin felt the knot in his chest give, if only slightly.
“Get him on his feet,” Eric barked. “If he runs again, break his legs.”
Low voices moved in the shadows as Aries and Lekyi helped Logan rise.
Collin and Dragonfly pushed through the line, past hollow-eyed refugees with their hands bound. They found Nic, steadying Logan as he wept—his grief a raw, broken sound.
Dragonfly’s tears returned at the sight. Collin pulled her close, an anchor in a current of sorrow, and together they fell in step behind their friends.
After the burned baby had been rescued, the fear finally caught up to Collin.
During the fire, he had moved without thinking. No fear, no pain—just instinct. He hadn’t realized he held the burlap sacks until they smoldered in his fists. Hadn’t noticed the creek until his boots were soaked and cold water clung to his trousers.
In the aftermath, the panic bloomed.
He left Sky and Rhea behind, unable to bear the baby’s screams—or the stink of charred flesh clinging to his lungs. His skin reeked of black powder and smoke. His clothes were streaked with ash. He needed to be clean. He needed to breathe.
Drawn to the creek, he waded in until the water rose to his shins. Though shallow, it ran swift, crystal clear beneath the moonlight. Stones and bits of gravel glinted like coins on the bed below. He dropped to his knees.
Even with his eyes closed, he saw flames.
He bowed his head. A whisper rose from his lips...
“Please forgive my sins. Please guide my soul. I’ve lost my way. Give me courage to do what is right. Give me strength to withstand another night.”
The words, once his mother’s lifeline, now tethered him. Ismene had prayed through every sorrow—her sister’s murder, her mother’s decline, the rockslide that stole her father, herhusband’s execution, the death of every hope she once held. Her faith had not spared her—but it had steadied her.
Maybe she’d known, somehow, that her son would inherit a life like hers.
Collin stayed there, kneeling in the running water, repeating his plea to the silent silver moon. He didn’t know how long he remained like that. Eventually, the cold crept into his bones. His limbs trembled. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to rise.
Then footsteps. A shout. Captain Owen barking orders to torch the remaining cabins.
