Nox’s voice was a lazy drawl. “And blackmail. Don’t forget about blackmail.”
Griff shot him a look. “We’re not building a better society by becoming London.”
Nox shrugged. “We’re not building anything if we’re dead.”
Dane stood abruptly, chair scraping harshly across the floor. “This is insane,” he snapped. “This is treason. This is—this is wolf propaganda.” His gaze swung to the others. “Anyone who stays here is betraying humanity.”
Several Watch members shifted, uneasy.
Two rose with him. One was a young man with a bandaged jaw. His name was Callan. The other was a woman, Mira, with a shaved head and hard eyes.
Halden’s voice was tired. “Dane, sit down.”
Dane’s face twisted. “No. I won’t sit down and listen to a wolf tell me how to live. I’m leaving.”
Callan and Mira moved toward the door along with him.
“Fine. Go then,” Nox said softly.
Dane paused, hand on the handle. “What?”
Nox tilted his head, the shadows making him look even more dangerous. “Go. If you can’t stomach the truth, leave. But don’t come back.”
Dane’s face went pale with rage. “You’ll regret this.”
Griff’s voice was low. “We already do.”
Dane slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing down the corridor.
The room sat in stunned silence for a few seconds after.
Some of the remaining Watch members looked sick. Others looked relieved. A few looked like they’d been waiting for someone else to make the choice first.
Clara, the medic, lifted her chin. “I’m staying.”
A young corporal beside her nodded. “Me too.”
I spoke softly then, not as an alpha, not as a wolf, just as a man who’d spent his life hiding in their ranks and was done pretending.
“You’re not being asked to love wolves,” I said. “You’re being asked to see reality. London’s taught you to hate because hate is easy to control. I’m asking you to help us fight back against them,” I said. “Help us prove to the world that wolves aren’t the enemy.”
CHAPTER 7
Nox Byrne
Watching Tamsin sleep was a strange kind of torture.
Even unconscious, even healing, even wrapped in blankets and with the bite marks from five wolves, she still looked like she might spring up and stab the first bastard who tried to tell her what to do.
She lay on the med bay cot with her hair spilled across the pillow, dark strands curling at her temples where sweat had dried. The harsh lights in here softened her a little. Her breathing was more even now, no longer the ragged, fighting-for-it gasps that had put all of us on edge.
And now, she was mine.
The thought was stupid. Possessive. Instinctive.
It was also true.
I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe and watched her chest rise and fall while my mind did what it always did when the world went quiet.
