Brynn looked from William’s blood pooling beneath them, to Garan’s smug smile, to the bloodied dagger resting in the snow.
Intricate carvings adorned the wooden hilt. Intricate carvings … of wolves.
Garan sauntered closer as white-hot rage cleaved a path through Brynn’s chest. She snarled.
“Brynn …” William wheezed. “Get away from him.”
A low, menacing howl rose from the forest into a high keen. Others joined in until an entire chorus filled the air.
The last of the color drained from William’s face as he struggled to stand before slumping forward into Brynn’s arms. His breath came in ragged, pained bursts.
“Go,” he managed. “Get away.”
“No, Brynn,” Garan said, holding out a hand to her. “Come here. Come to me. We can go home now. This … thing … won’t bother you again. Trust me”
Furious flames roared in her heart, and each of William’s haggard gasps stoked them higher and hotter.
She eased William into the snow.
The howling went on and on, getting closer.