Page 44

"But you won't," I goad, snapping my knuckles. "Because then, you'll never know if you were the better Alpha. The better man."

"None of those things matter in the grand scheme of things, Winter," he says, but I see the shift in his posture, the inward curve of his shoulders like he has become unsure of himself.

"Always the close second. Never quite good enough," I purr. "Is that what bred your obsession with me? Your father's need to remind you every day of your incompetence?"

"Shut the hell up!" he snarls, eyes burning.

I smile. Point. "It never does satisfy you, does it?

Remake your home into mine. Mimic my mannerisms. Fuck my women.

Steal my title and lands. Kill me and wear my very skin.

But you will still never be me. Always nearly as good as Winter.

Always a shadow. Always the man who has to steal someone else's life to feel like something. "

He is out of his seat, anger making his muscles tremble. Tova rushes over, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Stop it. He's goading you?—"

Ronan pushes her aside so hard, her side slams into the wall. She cries out, curling into a ball, and my blood rushes, the killing rage settling over me like a blanket.

"She's bleeding," Seraphina screams, hurtling over, even with the gun aimed for her head, and I know what I need to do to protect them.

"What's wrong, Ronan?" I give the final push. "Afraid you'll lose again, even with the unlevel playing field? Afraid to face me like the Alpha you pretend to be?"

He studies me, gaze flickering with that same madness I've always seen buried in him. "I'll make you watch me ruin her," he promises.

I smirk. "You're going to try."

And like the fool he is, he falls for it, snarling at his men. "Do not interfere!"

I barely register the blur of his body before his fist cracks across my jaw, splitting skin and sending a spray of blood from my mouth.

My vision rocks, and I barely bring up my arm to dodge another blow when his claws jut out, glinting like obsidian as he slashes again, this time across my ribs. Blood sprays.

The wolfsbane still thick in my veins dulls everything except the pain. It flares hot, dragging a ragged snarl from my chest.

I pivot, barely missing a blow that would've punctured something important, and ram my elbow into his ribs with a crunch. He grunts, staggers for a moment, but he recovers fast, claws going for my throat.

I duck, coming up under him, and sink my fist into his stomach so hard I feel something give. Bone or organ, I don't care. He chokes on his breath, wheezing, and spits blood.

My hands are in perfect reach for her damned black heart, but the wolfsbane hits, doubling my vision and I miss, hitting air.

Claws rake down my back and fire tears through my spine, forcing me on one knee.

Ronan laughs, low and hoarse. "Tired already?"

I rise, lips curled back over my canines. "You hit like a drunk pup."

His snarl rips through the air.

We clash in a blur of fists, claws and blood.

Every hit from him feels like fire in my veins, the poison slowing the healing and dulling my instincts.

Still, my body moves in a dance I've grown used to over the years, and I trust it instead, abandoning my confused senses.

I drive my knee into his thigh, catching his wrist before he can gut me. I twist, snapping his bone.

He screams.

His elbow turns next in an awkward bend and he hisses in frustration, snapping his head against my nose. Pain ripples, but I catalogue it, refusing to let it distract me. I have him. I will break every bone in his body for touching Seraphina and Tova.

I punch him for as many times as I have imagined killing him. I punch him until his teeth fall out. Until my knuckles burst and his blood splatters on my face. Until he wheezes, head lolling weakly.

My hand wraps around his throat, slamming him into a stone pillar, cracking it behind his spine. Another and the pillar breaks, dust and rubble staining the air. He coughs, clawing at my arms, his boots scraping for purchase as I squeeze.

I try to find a single part of me that doesn't want to kill him, a part that remembers a different time when I gave a fuck about him. And I fail.

I feel the quickening pulse in his neck, the outline of every strong bone. It will be a quick death, better than he deserves.

He seems to gain clarity for a second and his hand rises to slash at the scar on my eye. Again. I flinch—a godsdamned trauma response. My grip falters, just enough for him to throw me off.

I hit the ground hard, iron on my tongue. My body screams at me to stay down, but I ignore it, pushing myself up, shaking, bleeding.

We stare each other off. I may bleed but Ronan has it worse. Blood pours from him in rivulets. His breathing is ragged. One arm hangs uselessly. His face is covered in his blood. His brown eyes glint with hate.

And understanding.

Different approaches, same results. He's never been the better fighter. There is no situation where he'll win if he fights against me fair and square.

He smiles sadistically. And that's when he turns to look at Seraphina, who for all the world looks at me like I am something spectacular. Precious. Lovable. Wanted. Needed. And there is so much love and pride in them, it guts me.

Callahan's smile becomes darker. Twisted.

"No!" I roar, stumbling for her, fear shoving my body forward when my limbs refuse. The distance between us stretches like a nightmare and she lunges for me, hands outstretched.

So close...

Her body jerks and she hits the ground with a sharp cry. She's hit...I can't see where but there's blood.

Ronan reaches her seconds before I do and time stops as he wrenches her off the floor with brutal ease, her back slamming into his chest, his arm around her throat, claws to her delicate, pointed jaw.

I freeze. "Ronan."

The desperation in my voice makes him laugh. His tongue darts out to lick her ear and Seraphina screams, kicking and thrashing against him, but she soon chokes and I assume he's cut off her air. "She never should have been yours."

"I'm right here! It is me you want dead! Not her!"

He chuckles. "You've ruined her for me. But I owned her first. And I can very well decide I no longer need her." His smile reaches his ear. "Here's to stealing something of yours. Forever."

He's lost it.

His arms tense and I move still, hoping, even if I know I'm not close enough to stop him from snapping her neck.

Fina's eyes find mine.

Callahan twists.

My roar deafens me and I can almost feel it. The very last breath?—

Blood explodes from Callahan's chest. He frowns, eyes dropping and I follow his gaze to his chest and the sword—the one he dropped earlier—tip bursting through, missing Seraphina's shoulder by a few inches.

Ronan gasps a painful breath and drops Seraphina. She collapses to the ground, coughing. I collapse beside her, pulling her trembling frame into my arms, still too stunned to look away from the dying man.

The blade twists, shoving deeper. He staggers, gurgles, disbelief etched on his face as he falls to his knees, choking.

Tova stands behind him, hands trembling, covered in blood. Tears leak from her eyes, her face pale, lips torn open in a silent, horrified cry as she watches him breathe his last. "I was pregnant."

His eyes seem to widen by the slightest inch before they hollow out, and he hits the ground. Dead.

Silence falls, so complete, I can hear my own heartbeat stuttering.

Tova falls by his side, ripping the blade free from his chest. She sobs, caressing his cheeks, his lips, his eyes, his jaw. Her cries become loud wails, and they carry across the halls long after Eric arrives to bring us home.