Mary’s POV
Eleanor wouldn’t stop crying. Just has she had been at it since sunrise, her voice hoarse from shouting for Cyril. I tried everything, soft words, a hand on her back, even the promise of breakfast, but she wouldn’t listen. She sat on the floor beside the locked door of Ella’s room for a long while after speaking to Ella, her small fists pounding weakly against it.
“Open it!” she cried again. “Ella didn’t do anything! Why won’t they let her out?”
I crouched down beside her. “Eleanor, please. Alpha Cyril isn’t here. He left before dawn.”
She glared at me through her tears. “Then where did he go? Why would he leave when Ella is locked up?” I have had to ask this same question more than five times this morning. My dear, I don't know.
I hesitated. I didn’t know what to tell her.
