She scanned the streets, the docks, the skies.
The power in her veins thrummed in time to her heart. A counter-beat. A bone-drum, a death knell. A warning.
They had to go now.
She started, but Silver’s broad hand clamped on her shoulder.
“They’re here,” he said in his northern accent. With his sharp senses, he could detect the wolves better than she could.
Sofie surveyed the sloping rooftops, the cobblestones, the fog. “How close?”
Dread filled Silver’s handsome face. “Everywhere. They’re fucking everywhere.”
Only three blocks separated them from salvation. Shouts echoed off the stones a block away. “There! There!”
One heartbeat to decide. One heartbeat—Emile halted, fear bright in his dark eyes.
No more fear. No more pain.
Sofie hissed at Silver, “Run.” Silver reached for his gun, but she shoved his hand down, getting in his face. “Get the kids to the boat and go. I’ll hold the wolves off and meet you there.”
Some of the children were already bolting for the dock. Emile waited. “Run!” she told Silver again. He touched her cheek—the softest of caresses—and sprinted after the children, roaring for the captain to rev the engines. None of them would survive if they didn’t depart now.
She whirled to Emile. “Get on that boat.”
His eyes—their mother’s eyes—widened. “But how will you—”
“I promise I will find you again, Emile. Remember all I told you. Go.”
When she embraced his lanky, bony body, she let herself inhale one breath of his scent, the one that lay beneath the acrid layers of dirt and waste from the camp. Then Emile staggered away, half tripping over himself as he marked the lingering power building at her fingertips.
But her brother said softly, “Make them pay.”
She closed her eyes, readying herself. Gathering her power. Lights went out on the block around her. When she opened her eyes to the newfound darkness, Emile had reached the dock. Silver waited at the ramp, beckoning beneath the one streetlight that remained lit. Her stare met Silver’s.
She nodded once—hoping it conveyed all that was within her heart—and aimed for the dreadwolves’ howls.
Sofie sprinted right into the golden beams of the headlights of four cars emblazoned with the Asteri’s symbol: SPQM and its wreath of seven stars. All crammed full of dreadwolves in imperial uniforms, guns out.
Sofie instantly spied the golden-haired female lounging in the front of the military convertible. A silver torque glimmered against her neck.
The Hind.
The deer shifter had two snipers poised beside her in the open-air car, rifles trained on Sofie. Even in the darkness, Lidia Cervos’s hair shimmered, her beautiful face passive and cold. Amber eyes fixed on Sofie, lit with smug amusement. Triumph.
Sofie whipped around a corner before their shots cracked like thunder. The snarl of the Hind’s dreadwolves rumbled in the mist behind her as she charged into Servast proper, away from the harbor. From that ship and the children. From Emile.
Silver couldn’t use his power to get her. He had no idea where she was.
Sofie’s breath sawed out of her chest as she sprinted down the empty, murky streets. A blast from the boat’s horn blared through the misty night, as if pleading with her to hurry.
In answer, half a dozen unearthly howls rose up behind her. All closing in.
Some had taken their wolf form, then.
Claws thundered against the pavement nearby, and Sofie gritted her teeth, cutting down another alley, heading for the one place all the maps she’d studied suggested she might stand a chance. The ship’s horn blasted again, a final warning that it would leave.
If she could only make it a bit deeper into the city—a bit deeper—
Fangs gnashed behind her.
Keep moving. Not only away from the Vanir on her tail, but from the snipers on the ground, waiting for the open shot. From the Hind, who must know what information Sofie bore. Sofie supposed she should be flattered the Hind herself had come to oversee this.
The small market square appeared ahead, and Sofie barreled for the fountain in its center, punching a line of her power straight for it, shearing through rock and metal until water sprayed, a geyser coating the market square. Wolves splashed into the water as they surged from the surrounding streets, shifting as they cornered her.
In the center of the flooded square, Sofie paused.
The wolves in human forms wore imperial uniforms. Tiny silver darts glimmered along their collars. A dart for every rebel spy broken. Her stomach flipped. Only one type of dreadwolf had those silver darts. The Hind’s private guard. The most elite of the shifters.