Dragoncrest Cliffs Can't stop myself falling

At least you get to leave, he growled from between his ankles, fixing Vercingetorix with a challenging glare. Vercingetorix no doubt felt torn and guilty about leaving the pack he was supposed to protect, and Ephraim didn't care one lick about it. The man got to leave, just like all the other Dragedans that had blood ties got to leave, while he was stuck here under Blixen's unfair fist. He realized he was making it about himself again, but he was too exhausted and frightened to feel bad about that. The truth was, without Verx around to guard the pack, Ephraim was certain that Rusalka would fall upon them and slaughter them all, and his paranoia shot to new highs at the thought.

The Cheka claimed to care and now Ephraim scoffed, rolling his head dismally away. If you ever cared for me, then free me from this place. I don't want to die here and should be free to choose my own fate, too. If ever you cared, Verx, please. It wounded him greatly to swallow down his own proclamations—he was going to miss Vercingetorix madly, and believed fully that the Cheka was the bulwark preventing Drageda's destruction at the hands of lesser wolves. Blixen was a fine leader but naive and prone to inaction. Dio... Ephraim hardly knew Dio. But Verx? Verx had always steered them right, he felt, and losing him was a huge blow. He would miss him, but he couldn't say it until he knew Verx spoke true.