Kayden ignored the swirl of questions forming in his head—questions that didn't need answers. Why was she here? What did she want? Did she know what she was stepping into?
None of it mattered right now.
What he couldn't ignore was her. The way she moved. The way she spoke. The unnerving calm beneath the exhaustion.
"She didn't kill them," he muttered under his breath. "Is that guilt? Mercy? Or just pride?"
Then his brow furrowed. "Or maybe… she just doesn't want to be called a murderer."
In the clearing, Helena knelt once again beside Whitefang. The gray wolf watched her warily, flinching slightly as she offered the last of the salve.
"Here," she said, voice low but firm. "Use it on your friends. You need this."
But the white wolf refused, pushing the bottle back with his snout. "You'll need this more than we will. What lies ahead will wound you far worse than we ever could."
