Page 168 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

He screams.

I release him, horrified, but the damage is done. His arm hangs useless, torn open by my bite. It’s destroyed and might never work properly again even with healing.

“Get help!” he gasps to his partner. He clutches the ruined arm to his chest, trying to apply pressure. Blood keeps flowing despite his efforts.

I was focused on the first guard, horrified by what I’d done. I didn’t track the second guard’s movement. The spear point catches me in the shoulder, punching through fur and muscle. Pain explodes through my body as steel drives deep.

I leap at him all muscle and fury, bowling him over. His spear goes flying, clattering across stone. The armor protects his torso but his throat is exposed. The wolf knows where to strike.

My jaws go for his throat.

The wolf wants to finish this, wants to eliminate the threat. One bite and he dies.

No.

The word screams through my mind. This is a person, someone just doing their job, protecting their household.

I’m the threat here. I’m the monster. I can’t do this.

The realization crashes down with crushing weight. I’m standing over a terrified guard with my teeth inches from his face. Red drops spatter across his cheek, his forehead. My blood, leaking from where his spear pierced me.

I step off his chest, moving backward on trembling legs. Both guards are down. One is cradling his shattered arm and the other frozen in shock on his back. Neither one is immediately getting up to chase me.

Bells clang from the watchtowers and alarms spread through the estate as guards mobilize in response. More of them will come with crossbows and nets.

The Clayborne estate is no longer safe. I can hear boots pounding across stone from multiple directions. They’re preparing to hunt me down. This time they won’t try to remove me peacefully. They will kill me.

I run into the city streets.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Every step sends fresh pain through the wound. Blood runs down my leg, leaving drops on the cobblestones behind me. The trail is obvious and any competent tracker could follow it with their eyes closed. I’m losing too much blood.

But I can’t stop to tend it.

I keep moving, driven by instinct and desperation.

Where can I go?

The question circles endlessly as I run. Every door is closed to me. I’m alone, hunted, with nowhere safe to hide. The guild’s network that once protected me now hunts me. Every shadow could hide a hunter and every corner could be a trap.

Wait… I do have someone.

Shade.

Years of partnership, of watching each other’s backs. We’ve bled together and fought together. If anyone knows me, truly knows me beneath the surface, it’s Shade. Perhaps my friend might recognize something familiar in my eyes.

It’s a desperate hope, but it’s all I have left.

If anyone can look past the fur and fangs to see who’s trapped inside, it would be Shade. The Wiolant compound is across the city near the palace. It’s part of the royal ground where guards patrol at all hours. The journey requires crossing most of the city. Miles of streets, countless guards, too many opportunities to be spotted and killed. But I have no other options.

I move carefully through narrow alleys that reek of piss and rotting food, keeping to the shadows. A cat hisses at me from a windowsill and dogs bark as I pass. Every animal in the city knows I don’t belong. Perhaps they know something is wrong with me. My stomach clenches with hunger. The raw rabbit they fed me feels like it was days ago.

The journey takes longer than it should. Usually it would take an hour of walking. In my injured and exhausted state, it might as well be across the ocean. I have to stop frequently to rest and catch my breath. The sky is lightening in the east and stars are fading. It’s nearly dawn by the time I reach the Wiolant gates.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m about to try to infiltrate the royal palace as a wounded, bloody wolf. The stupidity is staggering.

The ornate gates loom before me, twice as tall as they should be. I’m swaying on my feet. Blood loss and hunger conspire to make the world tilt and spin. The guards snap to attention the moment they spot me. Their spears lower in perfect unison, pointing at my chest.