o longer a battlefi

ne. Lyra stood at the center, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. Her dagger hung loose in her hand, its silver stained crimson. Around her, the survivors gathered the wounded, cleared the dead. No one spoke unless necessary. Grief had claimed t

n't. Not yet." "You just nearly bled out your soul in front of a demigod. You've earned a break." She shook her head. "People died for me. For this." "And you made sure the rest lived." His voice was gentle, but firm. "You don't have to carry their ghosts alone." Lyra looked at him then, trul

cold. "You killed your own," she said. "Why? He gave a half shrug. "Everyone's loyal until the right deal comes along. "And what did Cassian promise you?" she asked. "Power? A pack? Your name on something more

"Don't," he said quietly. "He betrayed us." "And he'll answer for it," Damon replied. "But

t. She lowered her hand slowly, the glow fading. "Take him to

dded, draggin

to feel his warmth. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "You don't have to do this alone." She turned her head toward him. "Then don't let me." He didn't smile. He didn't ne