Chapter 8: Ashes Don’t Sleep
The parchment was still in her hand when the alarm bells rang three sharp chimes, no more, no less. Not a full-pack emergency, but enough to mean trouble. Enough to mean something had broken through.
Magnolia didn’t hesitate.
She moved through the corridor like a blade, silk gown trailing behind her, feet silent on the marble. The guards were already rushing past in wolf form, eyes glowing, claws unsheathed. She followed them without waiting for permission.
The scent hit her the moment she cleared the south courtyard gate.
Ash. Blood. And something else pinesap and old iron.
Then a body crashed through the tree line.
Beckett.
He staggered forward, dragging one leg behind him. His face was streaked with blood, shirt shredded, shoulder torn open. Two border wolves flanked him, growling at whatever still lingered in the shadows.
"Get him inside!" Magnolia shouted.
They obeyed instantly. She ran beside them as they pulled Beckett through the southern threshold and down into the stone-walled infirmary beneath the estate.
The healers were already moving snapping orders, clearing benches, brewing poultices.