The Sentinels Sometimes the answer lies in a memory.

Her surprise was acknowledged with a mere cant of a dark ear, for he'd found himself expecting such a reaction. In the short time Dacio had spent alone with Raleska, he had learned a lot about her. Primarily, he'd come to realise that she and her mother really were nothing alike.

He would've never had to tiptoe around Caiaphas like she were a baby deer. No, that particular hell hound was as bold as they came, flaunting herself with a sour arrogance and determination to weave her way with ease beneath his skin. Her daughter really was different: fearful, emotional, everything Blackhead couldn't ever be. As he regarded her reaction to his presence with a cool stare, Dacio wondered if the sea witch had dropped her babe from a great height or, more realistically, if she'd stolen her from another she-wolf.

"So are you," he observed, though not unkindly. The space she put between them was noted, though Dacio made no move to close that distance. "I can go if you'd prefer."