Page 84 of The Onyx Covenant

I glance back, but from this angle, I can’t see Theron or Kieran. We’re alone.

“When did you cut yourself?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

I turn just in time to see Rachel’s face shift—vulnerability vanishing, replaced by cold hatred.

She lunges.

A dagger flashes in her hand, the blade slicing through the air—straight for my face.

ChapterFifteen

LYRA

Rachel’s blade flies at me.

Panic thumps in my chest.

I jerk my head to the side, feeling the blade whistle past my ear. My foot catches on something—a root or stone—and I stumble backward, hitting the ground hard. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs, but adrenaline propels me into a clumsy roll as Rachel comes at me again, her blade slicing through the air where I’d been only a second before.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I shout, scrambling to my feet and backing away.

Rachel’s face is contorted with rage, her eyes burning with hatred.

“You should have withdrawn from the ritual, Elios filth!” She slashes again, this time grazing my arm. A line of fire blooms across my skin. “Your kind doesn’t belong here!”

I twist just in time, bringing my forearm up to catch her strike. The impact rattles through me, sharp and jarring, and the cut she gave me earlier flares with pain—but I shove it down, refusing to give her an inch.

“You’re insane! We’re supposed to be competing, not killing each other!”

“This was never about the competition,” Rachel snarls, feinting left, then striking right.

I catch her wrist, twisting hard. She counters with a brutal sweep to my legs, and we hit the packed dirt with bone-grating force, tangled in a flurry of limbs and snarled breaths.

Her elbow drives toward my ribs, but I shift, using my knee to lever her weight just enough to slip free. My hands scrape against the dirt as I lurch upright, unsteady but fast.

She’s still half risen when I drive a kick into her side. The impact lands with a dull thud, forcing a grunt from her throat.

Snarling, she slashes upward with her knife. I jerk back—just in time—the blade missing my stomach by a whisper. Rachel scrambles to her feet, eyes wild, lips peeled back in a snarl.

She lunges, but I twist and catch her, using her momentum to drive her backward. Her shoulders slam into the wall of thorns, and there’s a wet hiss as they pierce through her tunic and dig into her skin.

She claws at me, wild and furious, but I grab her wrist—the one holding the dagger—and slam it hard against the thorny wall. Her fingers loosen just enough so I can wrench the blade free.

Before she can recover, I pivot, driving my forearm across her chest and pinning her to the wall. Thorns dig deeper into her back. She snarls, trying to twist free.

I raise the stolen dagger and press it to her throat, the point steady against her pulse. Her breath catches. I lean in, close enough to feel her heartbeat stuttering beneath the blade.

Panting for breath, I think about the cut on her side and how it looked fresh and unhealed. How I always use kevrin powder on my blade to slow down the healing of any cuts.

“You’re trying to kill me? And it was you, wasn’t it? You attacked me in the sleeping quarters behind the Covenant building. You and some other loser.”

“For the Alpha of Umbra.” Rachel’s eyes burn with undiminished hatred. “For him. For our pack’s survival.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Kieran demands from farther behind me.

I don’t take my eyes off Rachel.

Her lip curls into a sneer. “You’re a bitch who doesn’t deserve to draw breath.” Her gaze shifts to Theron and Kieran. “And you two… traitors to your own kind. Betraying your pack for Elios scum.” Her eyes lock on Theron. “What would your father say, seeing his son and heir protecting her instead of slitting her throat when she fights me? You’re a disgrace to the Shadowmane name.”

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