Page 106 of The Onyx Covenant

A faint light flickers to life, just enough to illuminate the face inches from mine—Theron’s father, his features twisted with hatred and rage. This close, I can see the family resemblance—the same strong jawline, the same intense eyes—but where Theron’s gaze holds warmth, his father’s burns with cold malice.

“You filthy scavenger,” he snarls, spittle hitting my cheek as his grip tightens. “You think you can come in here and take over? Eradicate decades of Umbra leadership?”

I kick wildly, fingers scratching at his hand, but his grip is like iron. Dark spots begin to dance at the edges of my vision.

“You may have tricked my son,” he hisses, “but I see through you. Your little performance in the maze might have fooled everyone else, but I know what you are—vermin from a lesser pack, clawing your way to power you don’t deserve.”

His other hand rises, striking me hard across the face. The blow snaps my head to the side, the taste of copper flooding my mouth where my teeth cut into my cheek.

“Did you really think I would allow this?” His voice drops to a deadly whisper. “Allow my bloodline to be tainted by your kind? Allow my legacy to be dismantled by a female who should be groveling at our feet?”

I manage to twist my face back toward him, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. “Your legacy,” I rasp through his chokehold. “It’s cruelty and division. It deserves to be dismantled.”

He releases my throat only to grab me by the shoulders and throw me bodily across the room. I crash into what feels like wooden crates, splintering through them as pain explodes across my back.

“You know nothing of leadership,” he says, stalking toward me as I struggle to rise from the debris. “Nothing of what it takes to keep order among beasts who would tear each other apart without a firm hand.”

I push myself up, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs and the warm trickle of blood from a cut on my arm. “Is that what you tell yourself? That your tyranny is necessary?”

“Tyranny?” He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor. “I created peace. I maintained balance. What do you think will happen when the old barriers fall? Chaos. Bloodshed. The very fabric of our society will unravel.”

“Or maybe,” I say, backing away from his advance, searching desperately for anything I might use as a weapon, “we’ll finally heal wounds that never should have existed in the first place.”

His hand lashes out again, catching me across my cheekbone, sending me staggering back against another wall. Before I can recover, he’s on me, one hand pinning me by the throat again, the other raining blows to my stomach and my ribs.

“You’re nothing,” he growls between strikes, each word punctuated by another blow. “A nobody. A mistake my son will soon regret.”

I try to block his attacks, but he’s too strong, too fast. Pain blossoms everywhere his fists connect. I manage to land a strike of my own, my knuckles connecting with his jaw, but he barely seems to notice.

“When I’m done with you,” he continues, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming my head back against the stone. “No one will even remember your name. I’ll tell them all how you rejected Theron, how you hated everything he stood for. How you ran like the coward you are.”

Through the haze of pain, I see him reach into his coat and withdraw something that glints in the dim light—a blade, its edge wickedly sharp.

“Do you know where we are?” he asks, almost conversationally as he traces the tip of the blade along my jawline, not quite breaking the skin. “The old punishment chambers. No one comes here anymore. No one will hear you scream.”

My heart hammers against my ribs, death flashing in his eyes. “They’ll know it was you,” I manage to say. “Theron will know.”

“My son,” he spits the word like it tastes foul. “Has been blinded by you, but he’ll see reason once you’re gone. Or perhaps I’ll tell them you attacked me, threatened the Onyx Covenant itself. A tragic case of self-defense.” His lips curl into a horrible smile. “Who would question the High Alpha’s word?”

The blade presses harder, drawing a thin line of blood across my collarbone. I try to twist away, but his grip on my hair keeps me pinned.

“I’ve waited a long time to purge our bloodline of weakness,” he says, his breath hot against my face. “My son almost had me believing he could be strong. Until you. Until he chose compassion over power.” He shakes his head in disgust. “The greatest mistake I ever made was not crushing that tendency in him when he was a child.”

Something snaps inside me at his words—not fear, but pure, molten rage. This man, this monster who calls himself a leader, who calls himself a father—he’s everything wrong with our world.

I gather my strength and slam my forehead into his nose. The crunch of cartilage is immensely satisfying, as is his howl of pain and the momentary loosening of his grip. I twist free and drive my knee up into his stomach.

He staggers back, blood pouring from his nose, but recovers quickly. With a roar, he charges me, blade slashing wildly. I dodge the first swipe, but the second catches my arm, slicing a burning path across my flesh.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you bleed out,” he snarls, circling me now. “Slowly. Painfully. As all traitors deserve.”

I press my hand against the cut, feeling warm blood seep between my fingers. “The only traitor here is you,” I retort, matching his movements, looking for an opening. “Betraying your own son. Your own pack.”

He lunges again, but this time, I’m not fast enough. The blade sinks into my side—not deep, but enough to make me cry out. He grins, that ugly, triumphant grin, as he twists the knife before pulling it free.

“That’s just the beginning,” he promises, watching me press my hand to the new wound. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to finish it.”

I back away, my vision swimming from the pain. My back hits a wall—there’s nowhere left to retreat. He advances slowly, savoring my fear, my pain.

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