Page 34

Lexa

Smoke and ash. I could barely see, barely breathe, consciousness fading in and out as the smoke burned my eyes and throat.

Pain pulsed through me in rhythm with my heartbeat slow, weak, desperate.

My body sagged against Tanya's grasp, her arm tight around my chest, the dagger cold and sharp against my neck.

The last rune on my back burned like molten iron, flickering, cracking, ready to shatter at any second. And when it did, I didn't know if I'd survive it.

Through the chaos, the pain, the fog, I could hear his voice in my head, raw with fury and desperation:

“Hold on, Lexa. I'm coming. I will save you.”

His words pulsed through the bond, faint but fierce, an anchor holding me from falling entirely into darkness.

Tanya pressed the blade harder, leaning closer, her breath hot and hateful against my ear.

“You should never have raised your filthy head from that garbage village,” she whispered viciously. “You were nothing. You're still nothing. You should've stayed buried in the mud with the rest of those human rats.”

I struggled weakly in her grasp, rage flickering inside me, dulled by exhaustion and agony. But I couldn't fight. I could barely stand. Tanya laughed softly, mockingly, fingers twisting cruelly in my hair.

“Pathetic,” she sneered. “You never should've interfered with me. I will be Luna, and you'll be nothing but a sad memory.”

In front of me stood Roran, tall and broad-shouldered, his arrogant face twisted with cruel satisfaction.

Dark hair slicked back, eyes cold as steel, jaw set in a vicious smile.

His leather armour gleamed dully beneath streaks of blood, blade drawn confidently, ready to challenge the Alpha he'd betrayed.

He looked over his shoulder at Tanya, eyes narrowing.

“If something goes wrong,” he growled, voice low and hard, “kill her.”

Tanya nodded coldly, her grip tightening brutally, the dagger slicing deeper until a small trickle of blood slipped down my throat. My heart seized.

Dirty cheaters.

Their plan was clear: challenge Andros, fight him for control of the pack. And if Andros won, they would kill me. The moment I died, Andros would feel it through our bond, his mind shattering, his soul breaking. Vulnerable. Destroyed. Ripe for the taking.

They didn't just want Andros's title. They wanted his soul. I closed my eyes, tears burning behind my lids, helplessness choking me.

But Andros's voice surged again, louder now, fierce and unrelenting: “ Stay with me, Lexa. I'm coming.”

The heat in my back turned to fire.

It wasn’t pain anymore—it was a warning. A promise. The last rune, carved into me with shaking hands and blood money, was burning alive. I could feel it bubbling beneath my skin like molten iron, my bones trembling under the pressure.

And she was there. My wolf.

Not just pacing now but thrashing. Snarling. Scratching and biting at the cage I’d forced her into for thirteen long years.

LET ME OUT.

LET ME OUT.

LET ME OUT.

Tanya’s voice slithered against my ear, oblivious, still wrapped in her pathetic delusion of control.

“Stop struggling you fucking stray. You don't have the power to brake free. After we kill you and Andros, that human brat’s next. Roran said so himself.”

Everything stopped.

Everything snapped.

That word— brat .

That smirk.

Dain.

The last fragile thread of restraint unravelled.

And my wolf screamed.

LET ME OUT, YOU FUCKING COWARD!

LET ME OUT.

The rune ignited, exploding through my spine like a violent lightning strike. I arched in her grip with a ragged, inhuman scream as the magic shattered inside me. No gentle break. No fading glow. It was violent—a death scream of the seal I had begged for over and over, finally torn to pieces.

Andros’s voice tore through the bond like a howl. “Lexa?! Talk to me—what’s happening?!”

I couldn’t answer.

I could see him—bloodied, feral, cutting down traitors through the smoke-choked halls of the citadel like a god of war—but I couldn’t answer. Because there was nothing human left in me to speak.

My skin split.

My bones broke and reformed.

Fur erupted. Fangs tore through my gums. My limbs stretched, my throat howled.

I didn’t break free from Tanya. I obliterated her.

My jaws clamped around her arm as I shifted, dragging her down like prey, her scream twisting into a wet gurgle as I ripped through her shoulder.

Blood sprayed the ground. She tried to run, to scream again, but I was already slashing, already tearing.

Her dagger clattered from her hand as I tore into her gut, her side, her face.

She wasn’t a threat.

She wasn’t anything anymore.

She was meat.

Savage, brutal, primal—I didn’t just kill her. I unmade her. For every bruise. For every mockery. For every threat against my boy. For every sick word she spat about Andros.

The courtyard was painted in her blood before her body hit the stone.

And when I lifted my head—dripping, heaving, free—I turned toward Roran with murder in my eyes cause I was done running.

Roran stepped forward through the smoke, boots splashing carelessly in the blood pooling from Tanya’s shredded remains. His eyes flicked to her corpse with nothing more than mild annoyance, as if she'd been nothing more than a pawn, a discarded tool whose use had run out.

A cold, mocking smile twisted his lips as he fixed his gaze on me, slowly shaking his head.

“Well, well,” he drawled lazily. “Looks like the stray found her fangs after all.”

No grief. No rage. Just cold, bitter amusement, a cruel indifference that ignited something feral and violent inside me. The same way he'd casually slaughtered his own pack, the same way he'd threatened Andros and Dain and everything I held sacred. Roran had never loved anything beyond himself.

He wouldn't mourn Tanya like Andros would mourn me, wouldn't burn worlds or tear down mountains. Andros would bleed rivers if he lost me. Roran barely blinked at her death.

My hackles rose sharply, muscles trembling as I snarled deeply, ears flattened against my skull. And beneath Roran's confident mask, beneath his carefully maintained arrogance, I scented it clearly: the bitter stench of fear.

It leaked from his pores, sour and acrid. He feared me. Feared what I'd become. But he was still an Alpha, too proud and arrogant to bow before an Omega, even one that just ripped his companion to shreds. He would never surrender—not willingly.

He unsheathed his sword with a smooth hiss of steel, stepping forward with deadly calm.

“You really think you're something special now,” he growled, voice low and venomous. “You're nothing. A feral bitch playing at being wolf. No one will mourn your corpse, especially not that broken Alpha you think you love.”

His words stabbed deeper than any blade, rage roaring white-hot inside me.

I lunged forward, claws out, teeth snapping—

But he was fast, brutally skilled. His sword arced swiftly through the air, slicing deep into my chest. White-hot agony tore through my body, pain nearly blinding as blood splattered hot and thick across the stone. I stumbled, gasping, the wound pulsing, vision swimming dangerously.

Roran smiled cruelly, victorious, twisting the blade.

“Did you really think I'd let you walk away?” he mocked. “I'll end you here and now, mutt. And when your pathetic bond shatters, Andros will feel every moment of your death—right before I kill him too.”

He tossed his blade aside and shifted. Bones cracked, skin ripped open violently as he surged upward into a hulking, savage wolf—black as midnight, eyes blazing with arrogant bloodlust, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

I staggered back, breath coming harsh and painful. Blood dripped from my wound, staining my fur dark crimson. But I didn't surrender. I would burn the fucking world to ashes before I let him touch my family again, or I would die trying to protect them.

Roran lunged.

His massive form collided with mine in an eruption of muscle and bone. Teeth tore across my shoulder, claws raked through my side. Blood sprayed the courtyard, hot and thick, painting the stone beneath us red.

I screamed and struck back, ripping into his flank with my jaws. The taste of his blood flooded my mouth. He howled and slammed me down, his weight crushing my ribcage. My vision dimmed, pain pulsing like a war drum in my skull.

We rolled across the stones, slashing, biting, tearing—two monsters locked in a frenzy of gore and hatred. My fur was soaked, my chest a torn, burning mess. My claws sank into his neck, but he wrenched free and sank his teeth into my leg, shaking hard until I felt something snap.

My body hit the ground with a sickening crack. I couldn’t move. Blood pooled beneath me. My lungs wheezed, broken. My limbs twitched uselessly, the final ounce of strength draining fast.

Roran loomed over me, eyes blazing, jaws wide, ready to finish it.

And then— I felt him.

A black wolf, larger than any I’d ever seen, tore through the smoke like death itself.

Andros collided with Roran mid-leap, the impact a thunderclap of flesh and fury.

They rolled across the courtyard in a brutal storm of snapping jaws and raking claws.

Andros sank his fangs into Roran’s throat, ripping flesh free as blood exploded across the stones.

Roran struck back, carving deep into Andros’s side, but he didn’t stop. He drove him backward, blow after blow, a shadow of pure violence. Fur flew. Blood ran in rivers. The sound of bone shattering echoed through the courtyard.

I forced my body upright, broken bones grinding together, blood soaking the stone beneath me as I fought desperately for balance. My vision blurred, black and red swimming together, fury driving me forward—But Andros’s voice slammed through the bond, powerful, savage, undeniable.

“No.”

It was not a request. It was a command. Not mean. Not violent. Jut absolute and unyielding. My muscles froze, heart hammering wildly as his voice ripped through me again, fiercer this time, a wave of raw dominance and rage I’d never felt from him before.

“This fight is mine.”

He stood tall, drenched in blood and shadow, every inch the Alpha I’d once hated—now the Alpha I’d die for.

“This traitor raised his blade against me, betrayed my pack, dared to take what is mine—what I love.”

His words shook me, the possessive fury scorching through every nerve.

“I will end him. He will fall by my hand, and mine alone.”

And for the first time since Andros had stormed into my world—since he’d bound us, broken me open, rebuilt me from ashes—I didn’t snarl.

I didn’t protest. I didn’t fight him. I looked at him—the Alpha whose heart had bled through mine—and I finally saw him for what he was: raw power, savage grace, unwavering strength. I lowered my head in silent acceptance. This was his moment.

His kill.