Page 72 of The Panther's Price

Every chain.

“No,” she growled, shadows spilling from her skin like smoke and storm. “I’m the end of tools.”

She slammed her forehead into his, stunning him. Her claws found his heart. She drove them in.

Varrik choked, his breath catching in one final snarl.

Her hands trembled over his chest. Warmth spread across her skin, his life, his end, herchoice.

She had killed before. But not like this. Not when she was fullyherself.

Evryn staggered back from his corpse, gasping. Her fingers curled, sticky with blood, her chest aching with something that wasn’t guilt. Not regret.

Grief, maybe.

The cost of rising.

Selyne’s voice echoed faintly through the stone.

“Impressive. But still young. Still raw.”

Evryn growled, her claws flexing. “Run. I’m coming for you.”

The wards ahead sparked as the Queen’s presence flickered away—retreating further into the Keep’s deeper chambers.

Evryn took a step forward and stopped.

The shadows behind hermoved.

She turned fast, crouched, ready to strike again.

But it wasn’t another soldier.

It washim.

Lucien emerged from the dark like fury given shape, his eyes glowing silver-black, his breath ragged, a cut across his jaw dripping shadow instead of blood.

He was half-shifted, claws at his hands, his fangs bared, eyes wild. Shadow rippled across him like a second skin.

And his gaze locked on.

“Evryn.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

His voice was rough silk, torn with relief and rage.

She stared at him, her panther senses roaring with scent, sound, feeling.

He stepped closer.

“You found me,” she whispered.

They stood together over the blood of the Queen’s enforcers.

Evryn turned her face toward the deeper dark.

“She’s running.”

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