TheMathairsexchange looks I’ve never seen before—uncertainty warring with fear. They didn’t expect this. Didn’t think anyone would dare challenge their perfect order.
“Bring the others,” Helen commands, her voice brittle as frost. “If these beasts want to play games…” Her eyes fix on me, cold and calculating. “We’ll remind them why witches bound wolves to our will in the first place.”
The threat in Helen’s words makes my skin crawl and my stomach lurch.
The ground trembles beneath my knees as another explosion rocks the castle. Closer now. So close. Through the windows, I catch glimpses of chaos in the courtyard below—flashes of spell-light and massive wolves tearing through ranks of younger witches.
“My queens!” One of Delta Team bursts back through the doors, blood streaming from a gash above her eye. “They’re protected by some kind of shield spell. We can’t hold them…”
“Enough!” Helen’s voice cracks like a whip. “No more excuses. No more failure.” Her hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. “Get her up. It’s time these creatures and the traitors with them remember their place.”
The pain barely registers through the electric thrill of understanding—Helen’s control is slipping. I’ve never heardthat edge of desperation in her voice, never seen theMathairspushed this far. Even as fear pulses through me at what they might do next, a wild spark of satisfaction burns in my chest.They’re afraid.
The knowledge makes me smile despite everything.
Rough hands grab my arms, hauling me to my feet. The binding spells tighten until breathing becomes difficult.
“You think this is funny?” Margaret appears in front of me, something glinting in her hand. A ritual knife, its blade etched with ancient runes. “You won’t be smiling when we put these animals down—”
A howl cuts through her words, closer than any before. The sound carries such primal fury it makes theMathairs’magic flicker. My heart pounds against my ribs, recognition singing through my blood.
Bast.
“Move,” Helen commands, shoving me toward the doors. “Let’s show these beasts what happens when they forget who their masters are.”
I thrash against their grip, magick or no magick. My heel connects with someone’s shin, earning me a vicious slap that makes my vision blur. But I don’t stop fighting—they won’t use me as bait for Bast. I won’t allow it.
They drag me through familiar halls despite my struggles, past tapestries depicting lies about our history. When we emerge onto the upper steps leading down to the courtyard, my bare feet slip in something wet. I look down at the lifeless body of a young woman.
I’m walking in her blood. Bile rises in my throat and I look up from the ground.
The scene beyond the steps steals my breath. Bodies litter the immaculate lawn—young witches who never stood a chance against real predators. Several wolves lie still on the grass too.They’re not Bast. The fur is a different color. Some of Lawrence’s people have fallen as well, but not many.
I watch with surprise as a group of witches, men and women, move with deadly grace between the massive wolves, their combined power tearing through everything in their path.
And there, in the center of it all, a reddish-gray wolf the size of a small horse. Blood stains his muzzle, but his golden eyes lock onto mine the instant we appear. Even without our bond, I feel his love. His fury. His promise of vengeance.
Bast.
The sight of him seizes my heart—my fierce, beautiful mate, fighting his way to me. But terror freezes the breath in my lungs. TheMathairswill make him suffer, force him to watch me die. Or the other way around. I want to scream at him to run, to save himself, but I can’t tear my gaze from those golden eyes.
“Enough!” Helen’s command thunders over the carnage. “This ends now.”
Margaret steps forward, pressing the ritual knife against my ribs. The blade is cold through Bast’s borrowed T-shirt—the only piece of him I have left. “Stand down,” she commands. “Or watch her bleed.”
The entire courtyard freezes. Wolves bare their teeth, growls rumbling deep in massive chests. Lawrence’s witches hold spells crackling at their fingertips. But no one moves. No one dares.
Bast’s golden eyes never leave mine. In them, I see everything we’ve lost—our bond, our future, our chance at happiness. But I also see determination.
“Did you really think you could challenge us?” Helen’s words slice through the deathly silence. “That you could waltz into our Court and take what belongs to us?” Her laugh is cruel as winter frost. “Shebelongs to us.”
The blade digs deeper, and I can’t hold back a gasp of pain. Bast’s massive form tenses, muscles bunching beneath blood-matted fur. I see his desperate need to reach me warring with the knowledge that one wrong move could mean my death. But some wild, desperate part of me still searches for a way out, still believes in the impossible.
We’ve already survived them ripping our bond apart. Maybe we can survive this too.
“That’s right,” Margaret purrs against my ear, twisting the knife slightly. “They might look like monsters, but they’re all so predictable when you threaten what they love.” Her voice rises, carrying to every corner of the courtyard. “Drop your spells. Shift back to human form. Submit, and maybe we’ll let her live.”
I want to tell Bast to fight. To tear them apart regardless of what happens to me. But I see the hesitation rippling through his eyes—that horrible moment of choice. Of knowing that any action might mean losing me forever. But if he shifts, he’ll be vulnerable. They all will.
