I walk through the streets. The people are afraid, and for good reason. But instead of retreating into the unknown of the hills, they stay. And it frightens me. The options I have are limited.

A ramshackle wall. A Beast inside me that yearns for the death of the entire army should I release it and likely destroy what little of my soul remains with it. I’ve already broken my promise to the mother who faced me to save her boy, but right now, I have not the energy to spare for regret nor the way I feel each snuffed life like another chip in the hole that's become my soul.

A Beast, a dragon that hasn’t arrived, a mage who is just as likely to turn on me as help me, and a small fighting force comprised of all manner of creatures going against an army many times our size.

I could use a miracle.

Wait, says that small voice.

Shasta said a Phoenix follows me. I turn, trying to see it, but see only a human scurrying across the way, the brown walls painted with strange colors to denote different wares within remain shades of grey to my wolven sight, even though I recall them to be bright purple, blue, and red in the daylight. Above, rain threatens as lightning streaks across the clouds hiding the stars.

I walk on with a huff.

What else was I expecting? To actually see a mystical bird behind me?

“Why do you want me to wait? What does that even mean?” I ask of air.

Wait, it says again.

Great. So helpful.

I trudge through the streets. The back alleys are small and almost nonexistent between the rock and brick buildings. People scurry from place to place like ants waiting for a shoe to fall. The overall feel of the entire city is much the same. Families waiting in fearful huddles. Individuals gathering their things to flee. All watching. All waiting.

A slight scuff comes from above. I tilt my head, then calmly step back.

A yell comes from the would-be perpetrator that abruptly ends when he smashes into the ground face-first.

I cock my head, knowing his scent well, but unsure why he would dive from a ramshackle awning. Maybe he fell?

Laughter rings out behind me. I turn my head, studying the two who lean on each other as if the best of friends.

I sigh, helping Jace up. He wipes at his nose, looking at his hands but unable to see them in the near-impenetrable darkness.

“Ish it bweeding?” he asks, crossing his eyes to try to see his nose.

I tilt his head back, wiping away encrusted dirt to find scratches but no break. A few drops of blood drop to rest on his lip. But otherwise, he’s fine.

“No blood.”

“Thanksh, Roland,” he says, taking a handkerchief from his tunic and wiping off the rest of his face. From the looks of it, he’s recently taken another dose of tea that has turned him… pliable. Almost childlike. At least more childish than I remember.

I turn my glare on Flash. “He’s human. You should know better.”

He straightens, his laughter cut short at my curt tone. “Yes, Dadda,” he says, throwing a mock salute.

Tim looks at him anew. Flash grins back, and they dissolve into laughter.

“You be seeing him eat dirt?”

“Priceless!”

"And Roland's face!"

I shake my head with a silent sigh.

Triple trouble. Why did I have to introduce Flash to these two rogues?

A smile tries to tip my lips as I think of how Flash needs etiquette lessons for his red-headed maiden. Perhaps a certain lady still gives them.

Something zips from a nearby alley head. I reach out to grip the arrow before it imbeds into Jace’s eye. He gulps, looking at deadly steel millimeters from his pupil.

I break the arrow in two with a clench of my fist.

Slow clapping comes from the darkness that even my eyesight can barely penetrate.

“Nicely done, Fang. It seems you’ve lost a loved one without losing your touch. I wondered. It seemed you were quite fond of the human. Might've broken when he died or some such nonsense.”

Jace blabbers a bit from beside me when I step in front of him, and Flash pushes Tim into the shadows of another branching alley head before returning to stand beside me.

Then Jace steps out from behind me with a slingshot and something sharp poised at the woman in dark red lounging against the wall as if it belonged to her. Tim saunters from the shadows, taking a stand on the other side of Flash, cold steel longer than my arm bared and glimmering in the moonlight.

Flash shakes his head at the man, and I hiss a breath out between my teeth, trying not to curse the foolishness of my friends.

“Would you all hide?” I hiss.

They don’t take their eyes off the enemy. “Do you really believe we’d leave you? What kinda friend would do that?” Jace says, cutting his eyes at me.

“A no good friend. We be better friends than that.”

Flash just bares his teeth and curls his claw-like hands, his blue eyes slitting.

“Well now, it seems you’ve replaced your brothers with friends. Yellow will be so disappointed,” she clicks her tongue, feigning a pout.

“What do you want, Red?” I ask, and Flash shoots me a glance.

“Yellow lives.”

I don’t allow the words to elicit a response, even though they threaten the numbness I’ve put as a barrier between me and the grief. It’s a sock to the gut to know Pa’s killer yet lives. “Why tell me?”

“He comes with three other Masters to ensure your retrieval to Black. Should you come willingly, they will spare the town,” she replies, her voice strangely empty of the usual sultriness.

“Are you their messenger?”

She shrugs. “Not exactly. Yellow wants you surprised by his return, wants to see you grovel at his feet, begging for the lives of those here and in the mountains.”

“As if he would actually spare them,” Flash says, his fangs growing more pronounced and giving a slight slur to his words.

She purses her red lips, twitching her cloak. “For all Yellow is, he will keep his word. Do you not know this, Fang? You knew him the best of us all.”

“Why would he exchange such for me?” I ask, my voice sure.

She tsks. “There is more at stake than you know. The Masters need you for what’s coming. Avidon will be shaken.”

“What be coming that needs murderers and hurthress to fight for us?” Tim spits out with more venom than I’ve ever heard in his usually placid voice.

Jace looks at him as if he’d sprouted two heads.

“A better question to ask is why assassins would come from their shadows? What would move us to such drastic measures?” she says, moving a step towards us, one of her fans in hand.

I throw a blade, and it pins the fan to the wall. She growls low in her throat, her eyes flashing. She takes a breath, meeting my gaze with something wild and unpredictable in their depths. “Purple went Rogue,” she says, the words pulled as if from the depths of her soul.

An undercurrent in her words makes me pause as the moonlight warms my shoulders. Something dark hovering beneath the words. I narrow my eyes, feeling my wolf begging for release to feast on an enemy’s lifeblood. It growls when I rein it in. I say nothing, and she draws another fan, clenching it in a white-knuckled grip, not meeting my eyes.

“He has departed from the pack. He has given your mother to the Emperor. He told the Emperor who killed Commander Vex… the Emperor’s son,” she says with a pointed look at me. I don't tell her Heather is the one who gave the final blow. And I won't. Better for me to take the consequences.

My blood runs cold even as I force my face to remain impassive. “You know as well as I Purple is loyal to The Black.”

She shakes her head, something desperate in her gaze that calls to something deep inside me. “No. I have proof.”

She pulls something from her bodice. With a thrust, she throws it at me. I catch it from the air, opening my hand to find a swath of fabric that smells of Frida and something… off. Without looking up, I catch the second projectile.

I open my palm, and ice rushes through my veins.