Page 115 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

How had a witch lived among werewolves undetected for so long?

“Careful, Haley,” he said without taking his eyes off Sabine. “They can read minds.”

Sabine looked at him, and her tone grew warm, almost indulgent. “Ah, Benny. Gentle, stupid Benny. Your mother was right, you know. You could have ruled. You have the brawn. The brains would have come with time.”

“I don’t want it.” He spat the words like someone filled his mouth with dirt and he tried to rid himself of the taste.

“No,” Sabine said, a curious note in her voice. “You truly do not. How interesting.”

Something brushed Haley’s hand. She looked down. Bard’s good eye was open and focused on her.

“Bard!” She put a bloody palm against his cheek and leaned over him. “You’re okay!”

“Go,” he said, his voice ragged. “Leave this place as fast as you can.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

The look in his eye grew urgent. “You’re in danger. Take Ben and get the hell out of here.” His gaze shifted to something behind her, and the expression in his gaze turned to rage.

“I’ve come for what’s mine, wolf,” Sabine said over Haley’s shoulder. “Your life is forfeit.”

Haley stood and whirled, blocking Sabine’s path to Bard. “You won’t touch him!”

Sabine laughed, a string of notes that rang like bells. “Of course I will, foolish child. He serves me.”

It hurt to stand before her. Haley’s bones ached, the feeling like the agonizing moments during a Turn. But she gritted her teeth and said, “An Alpha serves no one.”

The amber eyes gleamed, and Sabine’s voice echoed with dark power. “Ah, but he is no Alpha.”

Bard made a noise, and Haley turned so she could look at him. It couldn’t be true. Sabine was lying. Witches were known for that sort of thing.

But Bard’s gaze locked with hers, and his good eye was full of sorrow. Blood still seeped from his body, spreading under him like a macabre blanket.

“Bard?” she heard herself ask, a world of questions in her voice.

“The wolf won’t deny it,” Sabine said behind her. “Because he can’t.”

The pressure on Haley’s skull pulsed, and she winced. The invisible fingers dug into her temples. Against her will, her head started to turn back to Sabine.

“Don’t fight her,” Bard said, his good eye pleading. “Please, sweetheart, don’t fight.”

Nausea burned Haley’s throat. The vise clamping her skull grew so tight pressure built behind her eyes. Unable to bear it, she let the force snap her head around.

Sabine was waiting, her expression bored. “You really are a stubborn creature,” she said.

Haley fought to stay on her feet. The crushing pain was gone, but the memory of it made the coffee slosh in her stomach.

Still, she’d die before she knelt before Sabine. She straightened her spine. “I don’t give a shit what you think.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sabine murmured. She walked to the edge of the bath, where the water had turned red from Bard’s blood. “Since you’re too pigheaded to believe a truth you don’t wish to hear, I’ll make you see.” She waved a hand over the surface and murmured something under her breath. Immediately, the water swirled, forming a whirlpool as if someone had pulled a plug at the bottom. Instead of draining, however, the water spun faster and faster, its roar filling the conservatory.

Haley was helpless to look away. The conservatory seemed to darken, and then shapes formed in the water. A familiar scene emerged.

It was the forest that surrounded Elder Lake. Overhead, a full moon shone down on the trees. Two males stood in a clearing. One was Joel, but he was much younger, his back straight and his frame packed with muscle.

The other was Bard.

Haley gasped, her gaze on the water.

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