Reid looked like hell when we finally got him through the back door of the pack house. Split eyebrow, dried blood crusted along his hairline, and bruises already blooming across his ribs where his shirt had ridden up. His forearms were a mess of shallow cuts too. I kept one hand on his shoulder the whole way in, like if I let go, he might disappear again. Stupid, but I did it anyway.
Callum moved ahead of us, clearing a path without saying much. He'd already herded the younger pack members off to the side with a few quiet words and that steady look he gets when shit needs handling. The older ones hung back near the hallway, watching. Some of them had known Reid since he was a kid running wild through these rooms. I saw the way their faces tightened—relief mixed with something sharper. They'd get their turn. Tonight wasn't for all of them at once.
