The week after the Purifier attack was measured in blood and silver light.

I healed Maren first.

Sixteen years old, silver burn crawling across her shoulder like a brand, she hadn't cried once.

Not when I peeled back the field dressing.

Not when the moonlight sank into the charred tissue, began rebuilding what the silver had destroyed.

She just watched me with wide eyes and said, "Did we really win, Alpha?"

"We really won."

"Good." She passed out smiling.

One by one, I moved through the injured.

Fifteen wolves, ranging from shallow cuts to deep tissue damage.

My moon healing poured out of me in waves, silver light pooling in...