Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

As I do, I try to calm my own breathing, repeating to myself over and over that she cannot help it; she did not choose to be this way. Some days, I need the reminder—and now is most definitely one of those moments.

Nostalgia strikes me again like a slow wave, but it’s different now. It comes with a sense of mourning. Of something truly lost. My life has taken an unexpected path—one I never dreamed of,

And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: You touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”

Help me understand what’s happening. Tell me how to make things better, and I’ll do it myself. I’ll do everything I can.

Goddess, I almost forgot how devastating grief is. How it leaves you husked and raw, but never numb. The pain is like a gaping wound—one no dressing can cover, no shield can truly protect. The agony of it might lessen, but it never truly leaves. It’s not just one feeling, either. Grief has layers and layers: sadness, bitterness, guilt, regret…

“I’m so glad you all came to honor her memory,” I say, voice trembling slightly. “She would be happy—and proud—to know how much you care. And I know that I speak for all of us when I say that I hope, in her eternal rest, she will finally find the peace she deserved in life.”

“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”

“I’d tell you not to put yourself in danger,” he says, “but I know you better than that.” I bite my lip, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re worried?” He scoffs. “Never. You are the danger. Any person who doesn’t see that deserves what’s coming to them.”