I crouched behind stacked crates. Marcellus’s breath warmed the back of my neck as he leaned close. The container strained under the wolves’ attempts to open it.
“We need some distraction,” I murmured.
Marcellus’s hand glided briefly over my waist as he reached into his jacket. “Already ahead of you.” He held up a tiny rune-device. “I’ll throw to your count to three.”
He slipped past me in the shadows, threw the device, and three heartbeats later — a blinding flare and thunderous crack shattered the night.
Shouts erupted. In the chaos, Marcellus caught my hand, pulling me toward the container. His touch sent sparks through me, but I forced myself to stay focused.
“Stood in front of me,” I said, slipping free to examine the lock. Still intact.
Marcellus stood behind me, back pressed to mine, a solid, reassuring presence. I opened my communicator to call reinforcements.
“Watch out your back!”
I spun at his warning. A Wintermoon wolf lunged through the smoke. Before I could react, Marcellus yanked me aside, his arm wrapping around my waist. The attacker’s blade slashed where I had been standing.