The silence that followed Ragnar's accusation was more devastating than any scream.

Marina stood frozen in the clearing, naked and vulnerable, watching Silvain's expression transform from shock to understanding to something that looked like grief. The bond between them, so new it still pulsed with raw magic, began to burn. Not with passion, but with the acid sting of betrayal transmitted directly into her soul.

"Silvain," she started, but he held up one hand.

"Don't." His voice was eerily calm, which somehow made it worse. "Don't speak. Not yet."

Around them, more wolves were arriving, drawn by the commotion. Marina could smell them gathering in the shadows beyond the clearing,...