The ropes bit into Lyra's wrists, the pain sharp enough to feel like her bones might snap. But she didn't react. Her gaze swept rapidly across the storage den, searching for anything—any tool, any chance of survival.
Selene didn't seem to care whether she answered. She kept talking, satisfaction dripping from every word. "Actually, I should thank you. All those years ago, you rescued Fenris from those rogue traffickers. That's the only reason I was able to get close to him—to take your place."
"What did you say?" Lyra's breath caught. Every drop of blood in her body seemed to freeze.
Memory dragged her back to a summer afternoon more than a decade ago. She'd been grabbed on her way home from the academy—strange wolves in their shifted forms, a filthy den, other pups crying in the darkness. She'd managed to gnaw through her bindings and free the others while the rogues weren't watching, and she'd led them out into the forest. But she'd barely made it a few steps before exhaustion overtook her and everything went black.
All this time, she'd believed Fenris had found her afterward. She never imagined—