She reached out as if to grab me, her expression turning frantic. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "I am asking you as his mate and as the Luna of this pack."
Before I could respond, one by one, the werewolves of the Silver Moon pack began to gather, both the injured and the unhurt. They fell to their knees in the dirt, heads lowered, eyes filled with fear and remorse. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground echoed loudly in my ears.
"Please forgive us."
"Save our Alpha."
"We beg you."
Their voices overlapped, desperate and tired, crushing down on me from every direction. My chest tightened painfully as I looked at them, seeing not the faces of my tormentors, but of people terrified of losing their leader, their home, their sense of stability.
