Selene watched the shock spread across her face, her smile widening, venom pooling in her eyes. "That's right. I took credit for what you did. I told Fenris that I was the one who risked my life to save him." She laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "All these years, you and your dead mother have been nothing but stepping stones for me to climb higher in the pack."
The words had barely faded when the storage den's heavy doors burst open. Fenris stormed in with a group of Blackmoor pack guards at his back, his face taut with urgency, his eyes already blazing gold with his wolf's fury.
Fenris's usually pristine ceremonial attire was streaked with blood from somewhere—he looked wild, desperate. His gaze swept between the two she-wolves suspended in the air, and when it fell upon the cauldron of boiling oil churning beneath them, waves of heat rolling off its surface, his pupils shrank to narrow slits. Every muscle in his body locked tight, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pulls.
The instant Selene caught sight of him, tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks in heavy drops. She played the wounded innocent perfectly, her voice breaking with sobs as she cried out to him. "Fenris... I'm terrified. Please, get me down! I don't want to die here!"
Perhaps their thrashing had been too violent—the ropes overhead began to swing wildly. The fraying knot groaned and creaked, then gave way by another length. Both she-wolves dropped, their bodies now less than half a meter from the scalding oil. Blistering heat surged upward, hot enough to sear flesh.
In that heartbeat between life and death, Fenris didn't pause. He lunged toward the only ladder nearby, climbed with swift, certain movements, and sliced through Selene's bindings first. He pulled her securely against his chest, murmured soft words into her hair, then turned to descend.
He left Lyra with nothing but his cold, retreating back.
"Lyra, just hold on a little longer," he said without looking back. "Once I get Selene somewhere safe, I'll come right back for you."