Page 83 of Deadly Wolf Bite

Dutch speaks up. “We think he’s under compulsion. He’s been trying to tell us something about Lexi for a couple of hours now.”

Fuck.

What does he know?

And why the hell is he compelled not to tell me?

Whatever he knows, it can’t be good.

“Grey, the blade,” Razor prompts.

I shake myself, trying to think past the betrayal that twists like a slow-grinding knife in my chest. “The case by the door.”

Mia hurries past me and clicks open the case. She returns and hands the blade over to me, something like pity in her eyes.

I unwrap the hex blade and grip the short hilt in my hand. Then I walk over to Ramsey. He holds out his hand, and I see that it’s trembling slightly. With a quick movement, I slice across his palm. He winces but stands his ground as blood rises to the surface of the wound.

“Repeat after me,” I tell him. “By the power of the blade, I speak truth.”

“By the power of the blade, I speak truth,” he says, his voice strained.

I press the flat of the blade to his palm so that his blood coats the hexerei symbols etched into the steel.

The symbols glow, and Ramsey suddenly gasps then exhales. He pulls his hand away, bending at the waist as he sucks in deep gulps of air.

I wait, heart pounding.

He said her name.

I need to know why.

“What do you know?” I demand impatiently.

He straightens, an apology written across his face. “A lot of things,” he says quietly. “For starters, I know Lexi is a spy for Franco.”

The others react with protests and curses.

I stare steadily back at him, fighting the knowing his words bring.

The lie he gave me the night Lexi missed dinner. The way my wolf knew he hadn’t fully come clean the next day. I’d chalked it up to his lack of trust. Or him just wanting to look out for me, to make sure I didn’t do something rash.

“How do you know that?” I ask when the others stop yelling.

Ramsey squares his shoulders and says, “Because I’ve been spying too.”

27

GREY

My final thread of control snaps. With a roar, I drop the blade and swing my fist at my former friend. Ramsey jumps back just in time, his eyes widening.

“Grey, wait?—”

I swing again, this time smashing my fist into his face, and he goes down, landing against the couch cushions before rolling awkwardly to the floor. The others crowd back in again after moving aside.

“Grey, stop,” Mia calls, but I ignore her, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Reaching down, I roll Ramsey over and slam my fist into his nose. Blood erupts on his face, coating my hand.

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