Elizebeth POV:

I woke to the creak of the door.

Floyd loomed over me, a shadow made of muscle and malice.

"The pack has been suffering bad luck," he said. "The Oracle says the Ancestral Totem is displeased. It has cracked."

My stomach dropped. I had carved that totem. Floyd and I, back at the Academy. I had poured my White Wolf magic into it.

"Fix it," Floyd said.

"I can't," I held up my shaking hands. "I have no tools."

"Find a way."

He threw a photo on the bed.

Sunny. My twelve-year-old golden retriever. The only living thing that didn't look at me with contempt.

"Sunny is in the kennels," Floyd said. "The warriors are bored. They've been asking for a live target."

"No!" I scrambled up. "He's harmless!"

"Then fix the totem." He leaned in. "And I know where your mother is hiding in the East Sector slums. Shame if Rogues found her."

Tears streamed down my face. Monster.

"I'll do it."

He kicked a heavy sack of broken stone toward me. "Dawn. Or the dog dies."

He locked me in.

I dumped the sack. The obsidian and moonstone were shattered. No glue. No resin.

I picked up two shards. They were razor-sharp. As I pressed them together, the stone sliced my thumb.

A drop of blood hit the rock. Hiss. A faint red light pulsed.

White Wolf blood. A binding agent stronger than epoxy.

I realized what I had to do.

I picked up the next piece. I deliberately sliced my finger against the edge, smearing the blood on the joint. It fused instantly.

Piece by piece. Cut by cut.

My hands were soon a web of lacerations. The pain was blinding, mixing with the dizziness from the blood draw. But I kept going. For Sunny. For Mom.

By the time the moon set, the totem stood whole. But it wasn't black anymore. Veins of crimson ran through it, pulsing like a heartbeat.

I slumped against the wall, cradling my mangled hands.

I had saved them. But looking at the blood-streaked statue, I felt a chill. I had poured my blood into a symbol of our union. I hadn't just fixed it. I had cursed us both.