“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I scoop Cinnamon up quickly, making sure she’s okay before setting her down gently. “I have to go.”
I grab my keys, my pulse racing.
The guardat the gate waves me through without question. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I park haphazardly in the circular driveway and sprint up to the front door.
The house is eerily quiet.
But I can hear voices coming from deeper inside. Raised voices.
One of them is Alaric’s.
I pause as I reach the base of the grand staircase, my heart pounding so hard that it hurts. The door to the main hall is slightly ajar, and I can see shadows moving inside.
I should announce myself, walk in properly. But instinct tells me to stay hidden in the shadows where the hallway meets the foyer.
Through the crack in the door, I can see them.
Alaric stands at the center of the room, his posture rigid with authority. My mother is there, too, off to the side, her expression blank. Ryker and his father, the Ravenhood Alpha, are standing near the far wall.
I see Ryker’s lips curve into a smirk. His eyes sweep the room, then land on me.
He sees me. Standing here in the shadows, watching.
His smirk widens.
Hatred surges through me, and my breathing quickens. I want to march in there and claw that expression off his face.
Then, I see Darius.
He stands in the center of the room, shirtless, his back to the door. Two guards flank him, each holding a whip.
No!
My hand flies to my mouth, muffling the sound that wants to escape.
“Ten lashes,” Alaric’s voice echoes through the hall. “To remind you of your place. And to show the Ravenhood Pack that we take our alliance seriously.”
Darius doesn’t argue. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there with his shoulders back and his head high.
The first strike lands with a crack that reverberates in my ears. I flinch as if I feel it myself, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
A red line appears across his back, blood welling immediately. But Darius doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t even tense up.
The second strike falls. Then the third.
My nails dig into my palms hard enough to break skin, but the pain is nothing compared to watching him stand there and take it.
By the seventh strike, I’m biting my lip so hard, I taste copper.
By the ninth, there are tears streaming down my face. I don’t remember when they started.
When it’s finally over, Darius’s back is a mess of crisscrossing welts, some already starting to heal but others still bleeding freely.
“Violet is family and nothing more,” Alaric says, his voice carrying across the room with absolute authority. “She is strong enough to handle herself. She doesn’t need her brother fighting her battles like she’s still a child.”
The word “brother” makes something twist violently in my chest.
“Get out of my sight,” Alaric says coldly.
