Chapter 72

• "They won't stop."
• Theon Vale's voice, a venomous, frozen whisper, hung on the air of the war room. What had once been a space of command and strategy now became a space of rage and sorrow. The air hung thick with the scent of rage and fear, the scent of a pack in turmoil.
• Rhea, her heart pounding like a drum against the bones of her ribcage, stood in the center of the room. She was liberated from the chains, liberated from captivity, but she was captive. A captive of her own destiny, a captive of a war she would never be able to emerge victorious from. The Mark of the Queen, glittering, shining cloak of light, pulsed on her brow, a throb, a reminder of her abilities.