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Chapter 7 - 7

The wolves returned when the moon drowned in blood-orange haze.

Gideon's pack sealed the clearing—a living prison of fangs and hatred.

Celia sprang before me, a flame against the darkness. "Fear nothing, Felicity! I stand with you!"

Her defiance lasted three heartbeats.

Then the gray tide engulfed her.

No.

Not her.

My body moved before thought.

I wrapped around her crumpled form as teeth tore into my flanks. Pain was irrelevant.

Save her.

SAVE HER—

Then it uncoiled.

Not the gentle "pulse" Celia spoke of, but a primal scream made manifest—

A shockwave of raw gold that flung wolves like dry leaves.

I remember only:

The gag-inducing texture of fur and cartilage between my teeth.

Vomit burning my throat as I ripped through muscle.

Celia's trembling fingers wiping gore from my lips.

"It's over," she whispered. "You came back to yourself."

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