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."