*Leo*

Fog clings to everything, and I can’t see more than a few feet ahead.

“Roxy!”

Her name rips out of me as she tumbles from her horse. I launch forward, but I’m too slow. Something slams into me. A rogue. Then another. Then more.

Snarls explode around me. Marek shifts, silver fur gleaming through the mist. The warriors follow suit, growling, snapping, claws scraping the earth. The rogues are fast, unhinged, their bodies jerking like puppets. But there aren’t many of them—eight, maybe ten at most.

It’s not about the numbers. It was never about the numbers. The witches sacrificed these rogues to distract us.

I tear one off...