He crashed to the floor on his side, the force of it nearly wrenching the hilt from my hand. I let it go at the last second, letting the blade stay buried where I’d put it. His paws twitched, claws gouging uselessly at the polished wood. His breath came in wet gasps, then shallower, then slower.
His eyes rolled, dulling.
He wheezed once more, a horrible bubbling sound.
Then he stopped.
I crouched down and pulled out my knife, then stood back up and looked around the hall, at my wolves, at Zara’s and Sera’s, at the rescued wolves who still stood upright and sane despite the gas that had been meant to turn them feral. At all the people staring back at me in shock.
“Remember this,” I said. “When you talk about sending wolves away. When you talk about how they all turn feral. Remember who actually lost control today.”
CHAPTER 31
Elias
Ashcroft didn’t get back up.
For a second, the only thing I could hear was my own breathing and the high, harsh sound of his last attempt at one. Then even that cut off, leaving the hall full of ragged gasps, choked sobs, and the drip of blood onto polished wood.
Tamsin was still standing where she’d finished him, shoulders rising and falling, the knife her parents had given her clutched in her hand. Her dress was torn, smeared with blood—his and hers. A cut on her forearm leaked down to her wrist in a slow, steady line.
My chest unclenched just enough for me to move.
I shifted back to human form and stopped close enough to steady her if she swayed.
“You with me?” I asked quietly.
She dragged in a breath, met my eyes, and nodded once. “Yeah.”
“Good,” I said. My gaze flicked to her arm. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s a lie,” I said, but there wasn’t much heat in it. “We’ll deal with it. Can you stand?”
She snorted. “I’m standing right now.”
“All right then,” I said. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Around us, the hall was tilting toward full panic. People pressed against the walls, clutching at each other, eyes fixed on the body at our feet. Dane lay a few meters away, throat torn out, his blood pooling into a dark, sticky halo around his head.
Griff shifted back to human form along with me. He staggered once, then caught himself and grabbed a cloth napkin.
“Give me your arm,” he told Tamsin.
“I said I’m?—”
“Humor me,” he said, already wrapping the cloth around the gash, tying it off with a firm knot. “We’re not giving these people the satisfaction of watching you bleed to death.”
She huffed out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.
I turned to the rest of the room.
“Everyone stay where you are,” I said, raising my voice just enough to carry. “Guards, lower your weapons.”
A few rifles wavered, barrels still halfway up, caught between reflex and orders. I stepped toward the nearest two, letting them see my eyes, letting them feel the commanding weight of my attention.
“You shoot in here and you’ll hit your own people,” I said, calm as I could make it.
