After the long journey on Zayn’s back, Lily felt a wave of relief at their arrival. Her muscles ached from maintaining her position, and her freshly bandaged wounds throbbed with each movement.
She got off Zayn’s back to stretch her legs, wincing at the pain.
She gasped in amazement at the new packhouse. It was a mansion, three stories of stone and timber that reached towards the sky. There were gardens stretched out behind the main building, paths winding through flowerbeds and lush green trees.
“Lily,” Zayn’s commanding voice cut through her thoughts.
She turned to find him standing uncomfortably close, his imposing frame blocking the sun. His face remained unreadable, but his eyes tracked her every movement.
“You will carry out the punishment you’ve chosen for the warriors,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Report to me when you’re done.”
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, blending into the wolves who hurried around them.
