Page 209 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“I am not a statue.”

“Architecture, then.”

Despite everything, Sava huffed a breath that might have become a laugh on a less terrible day.

Cassie didn’t look away from me. “You are hiding something.”

“Yes.”

“At least you are honest about the lying.”

“I am hiding the details because the details will get you killed if you hesitate.”

Her mouth tightened. That was the part she understood. Not because she trusted the lie, but because she trusted danger.

“You need your strength,” I said. “When it opens, it will open fast.”

“And I take my family and run.”

“Yes.”

“And you follow.”

“Yes.”

The binding burned under the lie. I didn’t let it show.

Cassie’s fingers curled in the blanket. She looked down at them, then back at me. “I want to wash.”

Sava frowned. “You are stitched, bruised, and running a low fever.”

“I want to wash,” Cassie repeated. “I want clean clothes. I want to look like myself when the ancient murder council decides whether I’m a problem or a person.”

Her voice shook at the end.

Only once.

I rose. “I will get your suitcase.”

Sava pointed at me. “You will stay out of the bathroom while she washes and not do anything wolfish about water temperature.”

“I have control over myself.”

Both women looked at me.

I didn’t argue. Their skepticism was earned.

Sava helped Cassie stand. The movement cost her. I felt it through the binding, a hot thread of pain along the hip, the ribs, the shoulder. I locked my jaw and did nothing except offer my hand when she reached for it.

Cassie accepted.

She swayed once, then righted herself before either of us could catch too much of her pride.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Of course,” Sava said. “That is why the furniture looks nervous.”

Cassie’s mouth twitched.