"Where did you find him?" Beckett asked, voice quiet, pitched low so the gathering pack wouldn't hear the tremor.
One of the scouts , Bran's younger brother, still barely shifting into his full wolf , looked at the ground as he spoke. "Near the Deadridge ravine. He was crawling. Said Gabriel's men left him for dead."
Beckett's lip curled. "And you believed him?"
The boy swallowed. "He gave us Gabriel's patrol routes. There were bodies. He fought."
Sterling's head lifted. A ragged grin split the dried blood on his lips. "What's the matter, Beck? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Beckett stepped forward, eyes narrow, searching Sterling's face for cracks , something familiar beneath the ragged edges. "What did he do to you?" he asked.
Sterling's smile vanished as quickly as it came. "Let me walk. That's what he did. He thinks he owns me now. He doesn't."
