The corridor of the Silver Ridge Infirmary smelled of sterile herbs and dried blood. Edgar, the Montgomery lead scout, looked at Avery’s ghostly pallor as she leaned against the stone wall. He stepped toward Hudson, his voice hushed. "Alpha, she is fading. Her wolf is dormant, she cannot heal like the rest of us. We must get her to a high healer."

Hudson hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat, his claws retracting into his gloves. He stepped aside, his face a mask of granite.

Preston Hale didn't wait. He swept Avery into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. As he brushed past the Montgomery Alpha, Hudson’s voice...