Chapter 149

The night had gone still, unnervingly still.

Our footsteps echoed faintly over cobbled streets as the four French wolves led us away from the heart of the city.

The air smelled faintly of damp stone and old smoke, threaded with the stronger, more musky scent of wolves who had shifted not long ago. I held tighter to Dante’s hand, his warmth grounding me even though my pulse kept skittering.

Hours