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Story: May the Wolf Die

ELIAS

My heart was in my throat as Marlowe launched herself at her brother, screaming at him with every useless punch she landed.

“I hate you!”

Ezra didn’t move, allowing her to take her fury out on him. Would he actually knock her out, or just push her out of the ring? We didn’t have to worry about him really hurting her, but we needed to act soon.

The problem was we could barely move. Ezra’s commands still had their hooks in us, and every time I even so much as thought about bum rushing the ring to collect Marlowe, my muscles seized in protest.

This was all such bullshit. We had won the Rite. Julian had accomplished the impossible and defeated thirty-one alphas, including Eamon Frost himself, only for Ezra to show up and piss all over everything. Because despite Thorne’s sick claim over “mating bonds,” he was right—family couldn’t participate in this challenge.

Julian was still recovering from his final fight with Eamon, the adrenaline leaving him and making the true extent of his injuries after so many fights known. Cam tended to him while Archer, Nolan and I looked at each other.

We nodded, sending warnings through the bond to prepare ourselves and attack Ezra next as soon as we could move. There was no way we would abandon our omega, not as long as our hearts beat in our chests.

I ignored the corpses of the Conclave and focused my energyon the ring. Marlowe was still a tornado of rage, but to her brother she was barely a breeze.

Finally his hands grabbed her wrists. “Marlowe, stop!” he barked.

But she didn’t submit. She bared her teeth, a light glowing in her chest.

My breath caught, and the pack and I watched as the strange power traveled down her arms and through her palms, a blast of light pushing her brother back. He braced himself as he skidded a few feet towards the rope.

But he wasn’t scared, or angry, or even hurt. He looked…

Delighted.

He grinned and rushed back to her, taking her face in his hands. “The king will be so pleased. You’re finally ready.”

She opened her mouth to object, but then a pulse of energy rippled from Ezra, and the room went dark.

“Elias! Elias, wake up!”

Nolan was screaming in my ear, my head throbbing with sharp bursts of pain.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurry. I couldn’t recognize where I was. I closed them again to concentrate. Where had I been last? What had I been doing?”

Memories of the Rite filled my mind and I shot straight up, looking around the temple hall. The whole room had been knocked unconscious, with only half or so now rousing.

“Marlowe!” I sputtered, my tongue finally starting to move. “Where is she?”

I reached through our bond, but it felt withered and cold.

Archer shook his head, his eyes rimmed in red. “She’s gone, Elias. Ezra took her.”

28

MARLOWE

Icame to with the familiar scent of cherry and almond enveloping my senses. Warm, dappled sunshine caressed my cheeks, and I tried to stretch, finding my limbs cramped.

“Do you want to walk?”

My mind was cloudy, and I looked up to find my brother’s face smiling down at me. “Hey, how do you feel? Sorry if your head hurts. It’s not a fun power to get hit with.”

My head? Why would my head hurt? And why was my brother carrying me? And why did he have long hair and a beard?

“Wait… you’re dead. Am… am I dead?”

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