Zoe was forgotten, left locked up in a cell still rambling and giggling to herself as the others left for Graeme and Greta's childhood home.
They climbed through the dark throat of the dungeon that led out to the forest before sprinting through the hilly expanse of trees that spread between the pack house and their parents' deserted home.
Graeme was carrying August in his arms unsure of whether she was going to make it. Again. Running through the forest with her unconscious. Again. This shouldn't keep happening.
But unlike when he found himself in this position in suicide forest, Graeme was positive about what losing this girl would mean to him now. He tried not to dwell on it at the moment. He wasn't going to lose her. The conversation with Penelope was unsettling in many ways, but it also gave him confidence in his mate's strength and capabilities. She was fae, after all. Fae. It was insane.
