Everyone in the chambers remained stunned, watching the skylight where the smoke of Violet's remains had disappeared. The flames extinguished themselves upon her death, and it was almost as if the madness had never happened. She was just… gone.
In the center of the floor, August remained cradling Graeme's wolf. He was strangely quiet, and she was afraid to move. He was burned. He was burned badly. She squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing what to do. It likely hurt him just to be touched, but she had to pull him out of those flames to save him. Now she was afraid to let him go.
When she began to release him so she could observe the damage, he let out a sharp whine. It just came out—he was trying not to make a noise. But the pain was so intense that he couldn't help it. Having his mate's arms around him was both comforting and excruciating in almost equal measure.
Greta and Maggie approached where they were huddled first and the others followed.
