The pieces scattered like fallen stars, and the soft moonlight trapped inside flared once before fading to dull glass.
Trisha gasped and immediately crouched down, her hands clutching at her shin as though she’d been wounded by the shards.
Just then, the gate slammed open.
Ryan and Warren stepped inside, the scent of wolf fur and the cold night wind clinging to them.
The moment their eyes fell on Trisha — kneeling on the floor, the broken crystal around her and blood trickling down her pale shin — they rushed forward.
“Trisha!” they cried in unison, both dropping to her side.
Ryan’s hands trembled as he lifted the hem of her skirt to inspect her shin, his jaw tightening at the sight of the shallow cut.
“You’re bleeding,” he muttered, his voice pained. “I’ll take you to the healer.”
“No, I—” she began weakly, but Ryan swept her into his arms anyway, his eyes dark with worry.
Warren stayed behind just long enough to round on me, his fury hot and bitter in the air.
“Alli,” he snarled, his fangs glinting. “You already have everything — why do you have to bully her too?!”
I froze. Then laughed bitterly.