Now, her face is pale, and her voice is a scream as she points her wand wildly between Striker and me. “Striker Draven! What did you do?”
At her scream, a resigned smile flickers around Striker’s mouth. “I released a Fury,” he says, his body seeming to sink more heavily against the ground. “And she’s fucking beautiful.”
At his words, a single tear slides down my cheek.
It’s a remnant of the emotions I used to feel.
But no longer.
I will do what my true nature dictates.
Within seconds, I calculate the remaining dangers around me.
Human men with guns stand at intervals around the grounds. One of them is pointing a gun at an unconscious panther shifter, who goes by the name of Harrison. For months, Harrison trained me in combat and weaponry. He was working for Vulture before he switched sides and started helping me.
Near him, a group of monsters has gathered.
They’re all students whom I once called my friends.
In a flash, I recall the names of those who once meant the most to me: Lucinda, Joseph, Ashley, Lachlan, Bree, and Ryan. Like me, they all came here to Bloodwing Academy as Unknowns—their power not yet manifested—but over time, I identified them as powerful monsters.
I fought for them, nearly died for them, so many times.
And yet, only moments ago, they betrayed me. Tried to kill me. They were the ones who bit and scratched me, attempting to tear my limbs from my body.
It’s only because their eyes are glazed that I don’t wreak justice on them now.
They aren’t in control of their actions.
Vulture commands them against their will. The wand she holds is called the White Wand. Bright, white light flows from it. Even though she screamed at me when I first arrived back here, taunting me with how afraid of the wand I should be, I can see its true nature.
It isn’t a wand at all, but a bone. An ancient bone of the primordial deity, Typhon. He was the father of all monsters, and because of that, Vulture can use the wand to control every monster in this place. My power of compulsion can’t compete with it.
Every one of these students will do Vulture’s bidding. Even if they don’t want to.
With one powerful exception.
Striker.
He alone is unaffected, and for that reason, he remains the axis around which my life turns.
As I take in the threats around me, my judgment for each of them comes swiftly to my mind.
Vulture has tormented the students and must be punished.
The human men with guns must all be killed. Especially the man with the pale blond hair and icy blue eyes who stands beside the witch. He is Vulture’s husband, Adrian Hadrix. His soul is a twisted, shriveled thing, and he must die screaming.
The panther shifter, Harrison, leaning unconsciously against the fence, may live.
The students will reveal their true natures once they’re released from the White Wand’s thrall, and then I will decide what fate they deserve.
As for Striker, the hellhound with the broken heart…
I must give him the wand. What he does with it will determine if he, too, must meet his end.
He is the one who must claim the White Wand.
Only a monster with the darkest heart can control it.
