The werewolf tenses to spring. I lower my head, gathering every scrap of strength I have left. My vision is going gray at the edges. Blood loss, probably. Or maybe just the clarity that comes with accepting the inevitable.
Protect her,I tell my pack through the bond.Whatever it takes. Protect her.
The werewolf launches itself at me.
I launch myself right back.
We collide in midair.
What’s that shit about the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object? Feels appropriate right about now.
Guess it’s time to find out which one wins.
Chapter
Two
REGINA
Magic tears through my fingertips as I throw another blast at the coven members closing in.
Three of them.
Four.
I’ve lost count. Everything is chaos, growls and screams and the crackling discharge of spells going wrong.
Destruction magic isn’t my forte, and it’s not like I had the opportunity to prepare, but the pack is holding its ground despite the coven outnumbering us three to one.
Then there’s the fucking werewolf.
All I can think about is the fact that Killian led that thing off into the woods to protect me, and he’s fighting it alone, but right now, there’s no way to escape the coven. Or the son of a bitch who’s presently trying to wrap a containment hex around me. I feel it pushing at the edges of my bond where the wolves’ claim shields me, refusing to let him get purchase.
Ryan Fairchild, Kyle’s golden-haired lieutenant, circles to my left. His smile hasn’t changed since the day I met him. Same charming curve, same cold eyes beneath. He always looked at me like I was furniture Kyle hadn’t finished polishing yet.
“Come on, Regina.” His voice is condescension in the form of audio waves. “This doesn’t have to be messy. Just come home.”
“I am home.”
I pull harder on the bond, drawing energy from Micah and Rowan as easily as breathing. The power responds instantly, eager to assist and nothing like the thin trickle Kyle used to ration out. Green light gathers between my fingers, bright enough to make Ryan squint.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he says, still advancing. “Siphons aren’t meant for combat magic. You know that.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
He raises his hand to cast, and I don’t think, I just react.
The spell that leaves my fingers isn’t the same force wave I’ve been throwing up until this point. It’s darker magic, the kind I’m usually tooresponsibleto play with, but desperate times…
It hits Ryan square in the chest.
For a second, nothing happens. He just stands there, looking confused, like I’ve told a joke he doesn’t understand. Then his eyes go wide. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
The light leaves his face and blood trickles from his eyeballs.
He drops.
I stare at his body. At my hands. At the faint green residue still clinging to my fingers.
