Blood.
My vision narrows to a pinpoint, my wolf surging forward with a snarl that I barely contain. The scent is unmistakable and achingly familiar. I know it like I know my own.
Daciana’s blood.
Rage explodes through me, fiery and absolute. Someone has hurt her. Someone has made her bleed.
Someone is going to die.
I break into a full sprint, following the scent deeper into the gardens. Past the manicured hedges and flowering trees, toward the section reserved for noble families. The section I specifically told the servants Daciana shouldn’t have to deal with alone.
Voices reach me first. High-pitched, mocking laughter that makes a feral sensation rise in my chest.
“—should have known your place, honestly—”
“—presumptuous little nobody—”
“—actually thought you could stand beside him? As what, his pet?”
More laughter.
I round the corner, and the scene before me makes every rational thought evaporate.
Daciana is on the ground, her hand pressed to her side where blood seeps through her fingers, dark against the fabric of her warrior uniform. Her face is white with pain, but her jaw is set, defiant even now. Even when she is bleeding and outnumbered.
Surrounding her are five noble daughters, all dressed in elaborate gowns of silk and lace. Their faces are twisted with malicious satisfaction, like cats that have cornered a mouse.
Lady Celeste stands closest, her hand still raised from what was clearly a strike. There’s blood under her nails.
Daciana’s blood.
“You really should learn to—”
“GET AWAY FROM HER.”
The words tear out of me as a roar, more wolf than man. The command in it is absolute, undeniable—the full weight of an alpha’s authority channeled into four words.
Every single one of the ladies freezes, their faces draining of color when they see me.
I don’t give them a chance to speak. Don’t give them a chance to explain or justify or beg.
In seconds, I put myself between Daciana and them. My body is shaking with the effort of not shifting, of not letting my wolf tear into them the way every instinct is screaming at me to do.
Because they hurt her. They made her bleed. They put their hands on what’s mine.
“Alpha Kieran—” Lady Celeste starts, her voice sickeningly sweet despite the fear in her eyes. “We were just—”
“Attacking someone under my direct protection.” The words come out low and dangerous, barely human. “Spilling her blood on palace grounds.”
I take a step toward them, and they all stumble backward, their extravagant gowns rustling.
Good. They should be afraid.
“Tell me, Lady Celeste,” I continue, my voice dropping even lower. “Do you understand what you’ve just done?”
Her confidence wavers, cracks forming in her perfect mask. “She was being disrespectful, Alpha. We were simply reminding her of her place. She’s not—”
“Her place? She is exactly where I want her to be.” Another step forward. “And you committed an act of violence against her.”
