Page 6 of The Blood Queen

“Semantics. The enemy we’re fighting is fixated on specific people. You,” he added. “Him.”

“The enemy is fixated on every wolf who refuses to acknowledge her as queen,” I croaked back. “Including you, Anson.”

When Leo’s grip tightened, I questioned whether I should have used Alpha instead of Anson, but it was too late now, and I wasn’t in an appeasing mood. He’d ordered his best healer to make sure I didn’t harm myself, and then ignored the decisions Gunther made.

“Amal is an original queen,” I pointed out. “Turned into a monster by the vampires—who are not impartial observers. They have factions fighting against and for Amal. Vamps who were infesting your northern territory right beneath your nose, turning abducted wolves into hybrids. All your outposts and settlements are at risk—what about Sutter? Being in Alpen territory didn’t save them.”

“Sutter fell because you were there,” Anson—or his wolf—snarled. “Destroying a witch cave.”

“And now I’m here.” I shrugged, even though my heart was pounding. “Better let me go before the big bad queen finds out where I’m hiding.”

“Noa,” Fallon cautioned.

I studied her strained expression. “Can we leave here if we want?”

“Yes, but it means going to the settlements that are already overburdened, where the medical care isn’t what you need. Where the defenses are not as solid as Westvale. And Gray wants you here. Anson’s wards will shield you from Amal.”

What she was saying hit like a frigid blow. “While he diverts her attention to himself?”

Fallon’s gaze held steady.

Realization hit a second time. “Is Mace with him?”

“Yes.”

My pulse thudded, and for an instant, I wanted to climb from the bed, walk to her. Wrap my arms around her thin shoulders.

Instead, I asked, “Where are they?”

“Hunting in the north,” was all she said.

CHAPTER 3

Grayson

The full moon shed a milky light through the trees, illuminating the ground and luring out the reckless. Those hungry enough to risk being seen.

An ideal night for the hunt.

Recent rains washed away any scent older than two days, and the trail we followed was new. Ripe with the reek of unwashed bodies. Worse was the scent of smoke. They’d built a fire. Foolish, since smoke was a flashing neon sign to wolves who hunted by scent and had vengeance on their mind.

We’d been hunting creatures for two weeks. Not all had escaped the battle when Noa collapsed the passage. The lucky ones died within minutes. The unlucky, the hairy pigs and scuttling crabs, the thin, three-legged abominations already gray as death—when we found them, we killed them. Left the burned bodies behind.

I’d joined the hunt a week ago, and blamed no one for the revenge they delivered. Debts were owed to the dead, and tonight, as the moon rose above the spindly trees, more retribution was at hand.

Intruders had passed through the smuggler passage from the Alpen. From Sutter, where Amal had left charred wood and tears. Survivors from that attack had come through well over a month ago, and it mattered, who came through tonight. It mattered for those we would avenge: Fallon. Noa. Julien. The men who died, or had grievous wounds. Lives had changed forever because a brutal queen slaughtered wolves she’d never met.

Wolves from Sentinel Falls. The Carmag, and even the Alpen.

A queen who had no master except her own hatred.

A fucking shit-show larger than I’d ever imagined. What did the queen feel when she destroyed lives? Did they mean anything more than snuffing out a spark?

And how long before I became like that—like the kings who destroyed the queens? Kings who feared the inhumanity and were driven to do something about it.

A branch broke beneath my foot. I made too much noise with my distractions, when the surrounding men remained disciplined despite the blood lust. They came from different packs, but worked as an effective team. I knew their names. They acknowledged me as Alpha. There could be only one. Just as in the Carmag, in Westvale, Anson Salas was Alpha, and I had no influence.

I pushed the distractions aside. Ignored the tension in my back. Men who hadn’t shifted ran behind me. Mace—who also hadn’t shifted—still ran yards ahead with his wolves. With a thought, he ordered them into formations. Beside me, Levi kept pace despite the healing wound in his thigh. His expression was rigid. I hadn’t seen him relax in the time I’d been back.

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