Chapter 8: The Wolf in the Rain
Night fell over the Blackwood territory like a heavy shroud.
The rain had turned from a drizzle into a deluge. It hammered against the slate roof of the cottage. The wind howled through the trees. It sounded like the mourning cry of a thousand lost souls.
I sat in the living room. The only light came from the crackling fire in the hearth. I held a glass of red wine in my hand but I had not taken a sip. My stomach was tied in knots that no amount of alcohol could loosen.
Leo was asleep upstairs. Dorian was sitting in the armchair opposite me. He was sharpening a silver dagger with a rhythmic scraping sound.
"He is still out there," Dorian said quietly.
I did not have to ask who he meant.
I could feel him.
It was an itch under my skin. It was a magneti
