Page 76 of To Carve A Wolf

“You’reexilingme?” she hissed.

“No,” I said, turning my back on her. “I’m finally giving you exactly what you always wanted. A world where no one challenges you. Now get out.”

Garrick stepped forward, his hand already resting lightly on the hilt of his blade—not threatening, but a reminder. Tanya's glare could have curdled blood, but she didn’t speak again.

She just walked out. And I didn’t look back.

But as Garrick led Tanya away, a faint scent lingered in her wake—something sour, vile, rotten. Something dark. Something I’d smelled before, though I couldn’t yet place it.

Unease coiled cold and heavy in my gut, Tanya's words echoing in my ears, sharp and poisonous.

What if the filth crawling through Lexa’s veins slips down the bond? What if it comes for me next?

My pulse quickened, panic rising.

What if the pack sensed my weakness—my fear, my grief—and decided to act? There were always challengers lurking, waiting for a sign of vulnerability. And right now, I was bleeding it. My thoughts spiraled, dark and uncontrollable, fear climbing rapidly through my chest.

What if Lexa actually died, and the bond snapped, dragging me into madness along with her?

“No.” The word left my mouth sharp, broken. “No.”

I would not let this happen. I wouldn’t lose control—not like this. I couldn’t wait passively and watch darkness take her. I had to act.

I had to find the root of this twisted evil and rip it out by force. I had to end it before it could spread, before it could consume her entirely.

I have to find the witch.

The thought settled hard in my chest, heavy and absolute. But there was only one person here who might know where the witch was. One person who might have seen her face, might remember her scent or location. One small, fragile human who had no place in pack wars or dark magic but who could hold the key to saving the woman we both loved.

Dain.

I set the goblet down sharply, not caring that the wine spilled across my desk. Whatever it took, I would save her. Even if I had to drag the witch here by force. Even if I had to rip theanswers from her bones.

Lexa wasn’t going to die. Not as long as I still drew breath. I moved swiftly through the dark halls, tension coiling tighter with each step closer to Dain’s small room. Regret churned deep in my chest. I hated waking him, especially now.

The boy had seen enough pain—endured enough uncertainty to last a lifetime. But right now, I had no other choice. I knocked gently at first, then carefully pushed the door open. The room was dim, lit only by the pale flicker of a dying candle. Dain lay curled beneath heavy furs, his tiny form small and fragile, breath slow and steady in sleep.

“Dain,” I murmured softly, kneeling beside the bed. “Wake up, little one. I need your help.”

He stirred slowly, eyelids fluttering open, dark eyes blinking up at me. For one brief heartbeat, there was confusion—and then terror flashed across his young face, sharp and brutal.

“Lexi,” he whispered, voice shaking, “is she dead?”

My chest tightened painfully, and I gently squeezed his shoulder. “No, Dain. She’s not dead. She’s safe for now—resting. But I need your help to keep her safe.”

His small body relaxed only slightly, gaze still wide, alert, uncertain.

“Do you remember the witch Lexa used to visit?” I asked carefully. “The woman who carved the runes. Did she ever take you with her when she went to see her?”

He shook his head, eyes wide in the flickering candlelight. “No,” he whispered. “Lexa said it wasn’t safe for me there.”

I took a slow breath. “Alright, that’s good, that’s okay. Think carefully. Did Lexa ever come home with anything from the witch? Something she carried, something she kept—anything we could use to trace this woman by scent?”

Dain’s brow furrowed deeply, thinking hard. Then his eyes brightened, his expression hopeful. “Yes! Sometimes Lexibrought back small bottles. They smelled strange. She drank from them when she was hurting a lot.” He paused. “She said they helped with the pain. I think there’s some left in our old house.”

Relief surged through me like cold water. “Good. That’s good. Now, go back to sleep, Dain. You’ve helped enough.”

But the boy had already thrown back the furs, climbing determinedly out of bed, sleep forgotten entirely. He reached for the shirt neatly folded by the edge of his mattress.

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