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“Like an animal…”

Each word struck him like a physical blow. He’d forgotten himself, forgotten where he was. In his rage to protect, he’d revealed the savage creature that lurked beneath his carefully constructed control.

Samha struggled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. The boy’s sister clutched his shoulders, her eyes darting between Egon and the dead guards.

“Are… are they dead?” a woman’s voice quavered.

He nodded his head, unable to find words.

A man stepped forward cautiously. “What do we do with them now? When Lord Trevain finds out?—”

“When he finds out, he’ll bring more men,” another villager finished. “They’ll punish all of us.”

“What were they even doing here?” someone demanded. “They’re supposed to be guarding the square!”

His jaw tightened as he looked over at Lina. “Hunting.”

He saw understanding dawn on the faces around him as they took in the girl’s pale face and ripped blouse. For a moment, the line between man and monster blurred in their expressions. These villagers knew the guards’ intentions—they understood what would have happened if he hadn’t intervened.

The crowd shifted nervously, their fear finding a new focus. But their wary glances still returned to him, to his massive body, to his hands that had so effortlessly dealt violence.

He’d tried to protect them, but in doing so, he’d become the very thing they feared most. The irony tasted bitter in his mouth.

CHAPTER 12

Lyric raced towards the commotion, her heart hammering against her ribs. Harta had come to find her, breathless and worried.

“Trouble,” the Elder gasped, and she’d known immediately that Egon was involved.

The crowd had gathered in one of the side streets leading away from the village square—two crumpled forms on the ground, villagers gathered in a wide circle, and at the center, Egon. His big body heaved with each breath, and blood—not his own—spattered his forearms.

Lina was clinging to the miller’s wife, sobbing, and Samha stood at her side, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe as he stared at Egon.

She pushed through the crowd, aware of the whispers that followed her path.

“Beast…”

“…not natural…”

Egon’s head snapped up at her approach, his nostrils flaring. His eyes were solid black, his features a savage mask. His gaze darted between her and the frightened villagers, his jaw clenched tight enough that she could see the muscle jumping beneath his scarred skin.

“Egon,” she said softly, stepping closer while everyone else maintained their distance.

His nostrils flared again as he inhaled sharply.

“Don’t,” he growled, voice rougher than usual. “Stay back.”

But she’d never been good at following orders. She closed the distance between them, her fingers brushing his trembling hand. His skin was hot to the touch, still fevered from the change. Claws still protruded from his fingertips, his knuckles swollen and bruised.

“Look at me,” she said gently. His eyes remained locked on something over her shoulder. “Egon. Look at me.”

When their gazes finally met, she saw a flash of amber in those black pools. It flickered, then began to grow, gradually swallowing the blackness.

“They—” his voice caught, and his fingers curled inward, claws digging into his palms. “They hurt Samha.”

“I know.” She cupped his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. “And you protected him.”

He glanced over at the boy, at the blood on his lip, and she felt him shudder. His gaze drifted to the bodies on the ground and she sensed him struggling to push words past his lips. “I didn’t want…”