Page 107 of A Lady’s Guide to Werewolves

“If the Order catches her, she’s done for,” Aidan said grimly. He stepped closer, taking off his spectacles. He snagged Orla’s gaze. “Orla,” he growled, for the third time.

She jerked, whining softly, as if caught by invisible chains. The Alpha’s command, even if he was not her Alpha.

But she still did not shift back into a woman.

Whatever spell, whatever this moon madness, it had her in a tight, unbending grip.

Aidan swore. “I need to get her out of here, but I need to call off the Order first. They’ll only make things worse. I can see the threads of the moon madness around her, and they’re strangling her. She’ll die and it’ll start a war.”

“Let me do it.”

“Like hell you’re leaving my side.”

“I don’t need to.” Sorcha sent a request to the raven, pushing all of her magic through her witch’s knot to lend it power when she was out of sight. Please, let this work.

“Orla,” the raven croaked, in the way ravens did, mimicking a human’s voice.

“He’ll lead her to the camp,” Sorcha murmured to Aidan. “If you tell her to follow.”

“Orla,” Aidan commanded, “follow him home.”

The wolf snarled, whined.

“Now.”

“Orla,” the raven croaked. “Orla, Orla.”

He dove down in front of her and then flew away. The combination of an Alpha’s command and the wolf’s innate instinct to chase had her lunging forward. Her eyes were still too bright, too wrong. She was fighting more than anyone else could see.

“Everyone else get back,” Aidan barked at the townsfolk still on the pavement, those hanging out of windows, peering around doors.

The raven led the white wolf down an alley, over a boardwalk, and onto the sand against which the sea foamed.

Orla tore down the beach, barking.

“Will that work?” Sorcha wilted, still tethered to the magic she had sent the raven. Aidan caught her around the waist.

He shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

By the time Sorcha and Aidan made it to the Wolf Wood, it was clear that Orla had already arrived. The raven had long gone and Sorcha’s witch knot itched unbearably. Magic stretched at such a distance, even her natural gift took its toll. She could taste burned bread in the back of her throat.

The camp was very nearly deserted. It was eerie, smoke lifting from fires, wind chimes twirling when there was no wind to touch them.

“They’ve got her chained,” Aidan explained, clearly hearing a multitude of sounds she could not as they walked between the tents. “Freya has her.”

“That’s good,” Sorcha said. She recalled the whip of Freya’s magic flaying the curse from her. “Isn’t it?”

“I hope so.”

The wolves were crowded around the edge of the camp. Sorcha could only see the backs of people’s heads and several huge wolves.

And Brutus.

He stalked toward her so quickly that she tripped over her foot in her haste to get out of his way. But he only seized her up in a crushing hug, tears running into his beard. She should have guessed that he meant her no harm, as Aidan did not stop him. “You found my daughter. You found my girl.”

Sorcha patted his shoulder while also trying to breathe.

“Brutus,” Aidan said calmly. “She needs her lungs intact. She doesn’t have Lycan strength.”