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the arm and hauled her along.
Fast as a shooting star, Rowan dove for
them. He reached them as they passed the first
of the trees, shifting as he landed. They threw
themselves into a halt, Aelin sprawling onto
the pine-covered ground.
Rowan was instantly before her, hands
going to the mask on her face, the chains, the
blood coating her arms, her torn body—
Aelin let out another sob, and then moaned,
“Fenrys.”
It took Lorcan a moment to understand.
Took her pointing behind them, to the camp,
as she said again, as if speech was beyond her,
“Fenrys.” Her breath was a wet rasp. A plea.
A broken, bloody plea.
Fenrys remained with Cairn. In the camp.
Aelin pointed again, sobbing.
Rowan turned from his mate.
The rage in Rowan’s eyes could devour the