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Summary
When Sawamura woke, he wasn’t in a cage.
He was lying on a cot in a sunlit room that smelled like dried herbs and leather polish. Bandages wrapped his ribs. The suppression collar was gone. His wings, though still sore and heavy, had been cleaned and splinted.
And sitting across the room, sharpening a dagger like it was the most natural thing in the world, was the same wolf hybrid who’d pulled him out.
“Morning, Flightless,” the man said without looking up.
Sawamura growled.
“I can fly,” he snapped.
“Sure you can,” the wolf said mildly. “Name’s Miyuki. You’re at Seidou now. You try to escape, I’ll catch you. You try to fight, I’ll knock you flat. You want to live, you listen.”
Sawamura bared his teeth.
But something in his chest—the part that had been curled up and screaming for years—finally exhaled.
Maybe…
Maybe he wasn’t alone anymore.