The trees finally thin out, and I burst into the clearing where the arena sits. The massive stone structure rises before me, ancient and imposing. A dull roar emanates from within it, hundreds of voices creating a sound that makes my wolf bare his teeth.
All these pack members have gathered for entertainment. For spectacle. They came to watch her die.
My hands curl into fists as I sprint across the empty field. The entrance looms ahead, gates standing open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.
Suddenly, I hear Zion’s voice, amplified and carrying on the wind. His words drive into me like blades.
“For the crime of betraying the Alpha, for the crime of attempting to harm this pack and harboring dangerous secrets, Violet Moonvale is condemned to be quartered.”
Quartered.
The word explodes in my head. They’re going to tear her limbs off. While everyone watches. While they cheer.
My vision goes red, and my control shatters. The final thread that has been holding me together for the past hour, the past day, the past six years breaks at this realization.
I don’t think. Don’t plan. Don’tstrategize.
I just move.
I don’t remember crossing the remaining distance. One moment, I’m well outside the arena, and the next, I’m bursting through the entrance onto the floor.
The scene before me sears itself into my mind.
Violet, on her knees in the center of the arena. Chains binding her wrists and ankles. Four men in execution gear approach her from different directions, coordinated and practiced.
My voice explodes from my throat, a furious roar that echoes off the stone walls.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY MATE!”
Everything stops. A hush falls across the arena, silence so complete that I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Alaric goes rigid in his seat of honor. Zion is beside him, frozen mid-motion, his face draining of color. Alaric slowly rises from his chair, staring at me, stunned.
“What did you say?”
The four executioners stand there, not moving, their eyes wide as they glance between me and Alaric.
I look at each of them in turn, letting them see the gold bleeding into my eyes, the alpha power radiating from every pore.
“Did you not fucking hear me?”
I surge forward and grab the nearest executioner by his shirt. He’s huge, easily over two hundred pounds of sheer muscle, but I lift him off the ground like he weighs nothing. With a single motion, I hurl him across the arena.
He flies through the air and hits the far wall with a sickening crunch, sliding down to the ground in a dazed heap.
The other three back off immediately, their hands raised in surrender, stumbling over themselves to get away from Violet. They melt into the crowd, their allegiance already changing.
The metallic tang of Violet’s blood fills my nostrils, sharp and wrong. It makes my wolf snarl with rage and scream for violence. And when I actually look at her, chained like an animal in the center of thisstone pit, all bruised and bloodied and broken, white-hot fury ignites in my chest.
Dried, dark blood crusts her face. Bruises mottle her skin in shades of purple and black, covering her arms, her neck, and disappearing under the torn fabric of her shirt. Her clothes are filthy, shredded. Her hair hangs in matted clumps, sticky with dried blood. The fucking chains have burned angry red welts into her wrists and ankles, which means there is a spell on them that is designed to cause maximum pain. The skin near her shackles is raw, blistered, and weeping.
They tortured her. Beat her. Chained her with spelled metal.
A roar builds in my ears. I want to tear this arena apart stone by stone. Want to make everyone who hurt her suffer.
But first, I have to get her out of those chains.
I take a step toward her, and she flinches. The movement is tiny, instinctive, but it stops me cold. My chest tightens. Then, my jaw hardens.
