I know this weapon. It’s the same one that ended Lowri. The one that tore viciously through her throat without remorse. Whatever flashes across my face is enough for Zephira to bend down until we’re nearly eye level, her expression unchanged.
“We each have one. A gift from Tanith when we turned ten. Handmade.” She pauses. “Do you want to know what the handle is made of?” Everything in me tells me I don’t. “The femur of a crossborn abomination like yourself.”
My stomach roils.
I remember thinking Malvina’s bloodstained blade looked like something forged in the pits of hell the first time I saw it. Learning about its origin now only proves how right I was about the kind of wickedness it carries. I remember the way she’d waved it carelessly, deliberately too close to Ivey’s innocent skin, as if daring me to give her the reaction she craved. Seren was stuck across the room with the other girls, forced to watch, helpless and unable to move as Malvina took her time taunting us.
That memory snaps me back into the now, straight into a spike of fear. Siggy. The compulsion was tied to my behavior, and I didn’t behave. I moved. I fought. I look away from the witch and find my Nightingale with the other omegas, knees pressed into the cold earth, hands bound in front of her. Her claws no longer at her throat.
Good. Evara didn’t keep up the compulsion past the drive.
Relief settles just enough for me to turn back to Zephira and hold her lifeless stare without flinching.
“I told Tanith we should be the ones allowed to skin you,” Zephira continues, voice calm as the blade presses in and my skin gives enough to form a shallow cut. “Told her we should be able to turn your bones into something useful like this knife, because it was our triplet who died because of you. We were born together, bound from the first breath, and now she’s gone while you and your alpha are still here. But Tanith wouldn’t allow it. Said that you’re to be brought to her to deal with herself.”
The knife shifts again, deeper this time, and warm blood slips down my neck where the blade has opened me.
The words sink into my chest and stay there.
“Tanith isn’t coming here, then?” I hear myself ask. Even though it doesn’t matter. Not really. I still want to know whetherI’ll finally come face to face with the woman whose influence has threaded through so much of my life without me ever knowing.
A soft, childlike giggle answers before Zephira can.
Evara appears over her sister’s shoulder, shaking her head, her messy pixie cut sticking up in every direction. “Our High Priestess would never degrade herself by stepping foot into wolf territory,” she chimes in before taking off, skipping toward the line of cars.
She moves to talk to the councilwoman who’s finally stopped kicking the shit of Fiona’s friend.
The blade at my throat flexes, drawing my focus sharply back to Zephira.
“She sent us to collect you and the rest of the omegas,” Zephira says cooly, head cocking to the side like a bird studying something new. “The fact that we share a few drops of blood won’t save you. It only means she’ll take her time. She’ll do things to your weak crossborn body that will make you wish I’d ended it here…There’s still time, you know? Maybe I should risk her wrath. For Malvina, it might be worth?—”
Zephira doesn’t get to finish the thought. Something explodes from the tree line to my left, a blur of dark fur, teeth, and speed that slams into her with enough force to send her reeling. The blade tears away from my throat as she falls, the pressure gone in an instant.
The wolf that takes her down is small, almost fragile at first glance, all ribs and sharp lines, but there’s nothing fragile in the way she fights. She hits Zephira, pins her, and sinks her teeth in without hesitation.
Juno.
Chapter 46
Noa
Juno’s teeth sink into the side of Zephira’s face, right over her eye, and the witch’s scream rips across the night.
And chaos ensues immediately.
The omegas move all at once, hands still bound as they scramble and break in different directions, using the distraction to put distance between themselves and the threats looming like sentinels over them. Witches shout and move to contain it, magic already sparking at their fingertips. The McNamara wolves rush to close ranks, shifting mid-stride to block escape routes.
Some of the omegas shift anyway, knowing they might not get another chance. Wolves tear free of human skin in the span of a heartbeat, and the heavy-duty zip ties snap as their bodies expand and reshape. It should feel like relief, like the scales are finally shifting in our favor after all of this.
All I can focus on is Juno.
She’s still clamped on Zephira, her small body shaking with the muscle strain, but her jaw remains locked tight. Zephira’s face is ruined—blood and torn skin—and beneath the green haze of the ward it looks darker than it should. Almost black. I can’t tell if that’s the light playing tricks or something worse. I can’t tell if her eye is still there.
Her hand scrapes along the road, feeling through mud and slush.
Searching for the knife.
I spot it before her fingers can brush against its cursed bone handle, the serrated curved blade glinting in the green light. I don’t think, I just move. Half crawling, half lunging, I drag myself forward.
