doubt.
"She deserves better than either of us." Living eye sharpens. "She deserves to be safe, and happy."
truth again.
Moon deserves safety.
above all things.
"So when Azarel comes for her—and he will—what happens then? When the crown fucking prince of Surhiira comes with an army at his back to claim his mate?"
Azarel.
name makes vision go red.
makes metal arm creak with tension.
makes claws itch for blood.
"Will you step aside? Let her go with that bastard who hurt her?" Challenge in voice. "Or will you do what you were made to do?"
what I was made to do?
kill.
destroy.
devour.
only response is a growl.
sick-alpha understands.
lips twist into smirk.
"That's what I thought." Gets up. Moves back to door. "Then we're on the same page. The way I see it, you ate through half of my army easily enough. So if he does bring one, between the four of us, it'll be a fair fight."
four?
other alphas, too?
not used to working together.
used to fighting alone.
other alphas only competition.
only threat.
but for Moon…
willing to change.
just this once.
just until Azarel is dead.
sick alpha puts hand on door.
