Page 33 of The Onyx Covenant

A ripple of murmurs passes through the group.

As we rise to follow her out, a hand closes around my upper arm, pulling me toward the back of the tent. I know who it is before I even turn from the captivating scent alone.

“Get your hand off me,” I hiss, yanking my arm away.

Theron doesn’t release me, instead drawing me behind a stack of supply crates where we’re hidden from view. His stare rakes over my face, darkening as it takes in the bruises and the split lip.

“Who did that to you?” he demands, tone low and deadly.

“None of your business,” I snap, lifting my chin defiantly despite the pain. “And I don’t need your concern.”

“It is when we’re a team, and I plan to win this.” His hand rises, fingers hovering near my bruised cheek before the tips trace lightly under the worst of the damage. His touch is featherlight, and for one treacherous moment, I find myself leaning into it, my gaze settling on his full lips. Memories flood back of that mouth against mine, against my neck, whispering promises in the darkness. Heat rushes through me, overwhelming and unwanted.

I jerk away, batting his hand from my face. “Don’t.”

“I won’t have anyone mess with what’s mine,” he says, his voice a dangerous rumble.

“Yours?” I repeat, incredulous anger flaring in my chest. “I am not yours, Theron. I stopped being yours a year ago.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, something feral flashing behind his eyes. “Whether you want to accept it or not, Lyra, it’s you and me against the world in this ritual. Most aren’t happy about this pairing.”

I try to move past him, but he blocks my path, his massive frame an immovable obstacle. Up close, he’s even more devastatingly handsome—the ritual clothing defining every hard plane of muscle, the scent of him filling my senses with unwanted memories of stolen moments in the forest. Moments I shouldn’t be thinking about.

Focus, Lyra.

But it’s not just the heat rolling off him or the way his presence stirs something dangerous inside me. It’s the weight of what happens if we win. Umbra wins. And that means… Theron takes the title. Alpha. I become his Omega. Bound to Umbra, to the very people who tried to break me.

I can’t let that happen.

My throat tightens as the realization sinks deeper. If Elios wins, my pack thrives. We gain advantage on supplies shared by the country. But if Theron and I win… we lose everything.

So… do I sabotage him? Throw the ritual so Elios takes the victory to win the Harvest Ritual?

The thought twists in my gut, leaving a bitter taste. Sabotage means betraying myself if I want to win for me, to prove to everyone else I’m not weak. I need to prove that I’m a strong Omega.

But at what cost?

My fingers curl into fists at my sides. If I win, I lose. But if I lose, I still lose.

Theron’s gaze is locked on me, steady and unreadable, but I feel the tension thrumming between us. He doesn’t know what’s going through my mind, doesn’t see the war raging beneath the surface.

Do I fight for myself? Or do I fight for what’s best for my pack?

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I murmur, but the words taste hollow. I don’t even know what I’m protecting anymore.

Theron’s expression darkens, as if he senses the turmoil I’m barely holding together. “We’re in this together, Lyra.”

But for how much longer?

“Whatever is happening, whoever hurt you… tell me,” he implores, an edge of command to it that sends a shiver down my arms. “Because if this ritual goes the way I plan, it was always going to be us standing together at the end. Us against them, right? Just like it would have been, anyway.”

He smiles then, a dimple appearing in his cheek, and I hate how my insides liquefy at the sight. Just as quickly, he schools his features.

“Stop it,” I hiss. “The smiles, the flirting. I’m immune to your trickery now.”

He laughs, the sound rich and knowing, and I clench my thighs together against the wave of heat it sends through me. Damn him.

I push past him, but his hand catches my arm, grip firm but not painful.

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