EMBER’S POV

The staff-guests are screaming, diving under the table, trampling each other toward exits.

I don’t understand what she did and I don’t have time to ask because the path to the door is clear and adrenaline is shooting up my spine and my wolf is screaming: RUN.

I run.

Barefoot, bleeding from where the guards’ nails bit into my arms, the red dress but I hold on desperately to it like a towel, even as it flows behind like a cape.

I hit the lodge doors at full speed and the cold slams into me and I don’t feel it because Sapphire is in my veins now, lending...