Page 214 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

I stepped close enough that the room narrowed to her face. Her wet hair. Her bruised cheek. Her eyes, tired and furious and afraid in a way she would never let Silas see if she could help it.

“When we get there,” I said, “you stay close to Sava.”

“Ian.”

“You listen to her. If she says move, you move. If she says duck, you duck.”

“I heard this plan already.”

“Then remember it.”

Her eyes searched mine.

I held the wall in place. I let her feel only steadiness. Not the goodbye. Not the break waiting in my chest. Not the death I had already accepted as the price of her breathing.

“And you follow,” she said.

“I follow.”

She studied me.

For one second, I thought she saw all of it.

Then Henry barked somewhere below, frantic and high, and Cassie flinched so hard her hand went to her ribs.

“Henry,” she whispered.

That decided everything for her.

We moved. The resort corridors had become a war path dressed in luxury carpet. Ronan walked at the front with Cormac at his shoulder. I stayed beside Cassie because anything else was impossible. Sava moved on her other side, one hand tucked near Cassie’s elbow, close enough to catch her without making the help obvious.

Cassie’s pace was too slow for danger and too fast for her injuries. I could smell fresh blood under the bandage before we reached the stairs.

“Sava,” I said.

“I know,” Sava snapped. “You think I cannot smell stitches pulling?”

Cassie didn’t slow. “I am right here.”

“Yes,” Sava said. “That is the recurring problem.”

Ronan led us through the main hall instead of the service route. That told me the courtyard was too contained already. Too many witnesses. Too many wolves waiting to see which Alpha would flinch first. The staff had been removed. The polished lobby stood empty except for rainwater tracked across marble and two overturned chairs near the corridor to the family wing.

Someone had been dragged. Cassie saw it. Her scent changed and I reached for her hand. She took mine without looking.

The south doors stood open to the courtyard.

Rain misted across the threshold.

The courtyard beyond had been built for weddings. White stone. Clipped hedges. A fountain in the center with water spilling over carved wolves no human guest had understood as anything but tasteful resort branding. Chairs had been set out earlier in the week for some cocktail hour that would never happen now. Half of them were overturned. Flowers sagged in the rain. Champagne glasses lay broken along the paving stones.

The wedding party stood clustered near the fountain. Small blessing the regular guests had been sent home days ago, less potential witnesses, less Cassie and Sava had to take with them.

Cassie’s father had blood at the corner of his mouth and both hands zip tied in front of him. Her mother clung to Tessa, face blotched with crying. Tessa’s hair had come loose from the elegant style she had worn for the wedding weekend. Her dress was wrinkled beneath a raincoat someone had thrown over her shoulders. Grant stood beside her, pale and furious, trying to look important while a Thorne wolf held a knife near his ribs.

Henry strained at a leash wrapped around the fountain base, barking himself hoarse. Human fear rolled from them in waves, hot and sharp and helpless.

Around them stood Thorne wolves in human form. Human weapons in human hands. Batons. Knives. Wire. One man held a flare gun aimed toward the ground like a joke he was waiting to make deadly. Another had a hunting blade pressed against Cassie’s father’s shoulder.