The links stretch.
Snap.
Bite.
Burn.
Pain detonates up my arms, bright and blinding, a white-hot starburst behind my eyes, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop. I had no idea I had the strength for this, but for Violet I’d break through any chains.
With one final, guttural roar from me, the final chain gives way, whipping apart in a spray of dirt and sparks.
Gasps burst around the circle. Wolves stumble back, hackles raised.
Even the twins, Talon and Thorne, surge to their feet, shoulders snapping back, power spiking like lightning through the clearing.
But I don’t attack.
I stand.
Blood drips in slow, steady lines down my fingers, darkening the earth beneath me. My breath fogs in the cold air, deeper now, fuller now, the first inhale of real power I’ve had since they forced me to my knees.
And I speak.
My voice is low, shaking with pain, but steady with something far more dangerous. “If I wanted to hurt you,” I growl, “I would have.” My gaze sweeps around the circle. “I could have torn through half this circle already.”
A beat.
“You know it. Your pack knows it.”
Silence falls like a guillotine.
No one moves. No one breathes. Every wolf here knows the truth: a shifter who can break silver restraints is either suicidal, or unstoppable.
Talon’s lips curl, but not in amusement. In calculation.
Thorne’s golden eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as he scents my blood… and my rage.
Somewhere in the back of the circle, someone whimpers.
Not in fear of me. In fear of what the alphas will do now that I’ve made them look weak.
I roll my shoulders, ignoring the scream of torn skin and burned flesh.
“You don’t want me dead,” I say. “But you need me scared. Broken. Obedient.”
A low, unsettled growl ripples through the pack. Talon takes one step forward. Thorne takes another. Mirror images of fury and pride and the absolute refusal to be defied.
“You think you have leverage?” Talon asks, voice dangerously quiet.
I smile. Not wide. Not unhinged. Just enough for them to see my teeth.
“You’re terrified,” I say. “Because you know if you push, if you touch her, if you even breathe in her direction”—my bones snap, the shift bulging under my skin—“I won’t stop.”
The wind stirs behind me, carrying a scent I know too well.
Fear.
