Page 91 of A Reign of Malice
I rip into him with all the ferocity I’ve held back.
My claws sink deep. My teeth clamp around his shoulder, and Ipull, tearing tendons and muscle in a spray of blood and raw power. He snarls and fights back, but it’s a desperate thing now. I overpower him, every ounce of my strength thrown into this one kill.
Because this one won’t stop. Not unless I end him.
With a final lunge, I slam him to the earth again, this time hard enough that bone gives way beneath me. His bellow is cut short as he goes still.
Panting, blood dripping from my jaws, I back away.
He doesn’t rise. He won’t ever again.
My heart is thundering, my limbs screaming, but I don’t stop.
We might be facing hell out here, but Sloane is too, and she’s facing it alone.
I lift my head to the sky and release a howl so raw, so furious, it could tear the stars apart. The sound rips from deep within my chest, shaking the earth of the broken kingdom I once called home.
And then I run.
The entry to the castle looms ahead, tall and silent, thick with shadows. I should shift back to open the door like a sane man. But I’m far past that. What I feel now is rage and fear and love so all-consuming it pushes past pain, past exhaustion and logic.
My paws slam against the stone, claws digging in. I don’t hesitate.
With a vibrating growl, I hurl myself forward and crash into the wooden doors, shredding them like paper. The hinges scream. The wood groans. And then the entry gives way beneath me, and I explode into the castle like a storm.
Fog clings to the floor, thick and laced with something dark and wrong. The scent of magic slams into me—decay, sulfur, and something sweet like spoiled fruit. But worse than that is the blood.
So much blood.
It paints the floor in uneven streaks. A metallic tang lingers like a veil. I skid on slick stone, scrambling to stay upright.
Gods, what has my brother done?
Sloane’s scent hits me next. It’s faint and laced with pain.
A snarl tears from my throat. My wolf surges, wrath anddesperation driving every muscle in my body as I leap forward and chase the trail. I scan the staircase ahead, assuming Aeson dragged her back to his private chambers. But my wolf veers hard right, snarling low, a guttural sound of instinct and certainty.
One hallway. Then another, longer corridor that stretches like a vein straight into the castle’s poisoned heart.
The trace of my mate sharpens. Not just Sloane’s—Aeson’s too. And something else…
Death.
My chest tightens, a primal warning echoing in my bones. I push harder, paws tearing against the marble, breath ragged with the burden of fear.
And then I hear it. Sloane’s roar of determination. She’s still fighting back.
I’m coming for you.
I round the final turn, my wolf taking charge, tearing into the wooden floors as he goes. We enter a formal dining room, but the opulence has been stripped away by the spray of crimson over the table and the dead body at Aeson’s feet.
It isn’t my Sloane.
Instead, my mate is on her knees, blood streaking down her temple, trying to rise. Aeson towers over her, dagger raised, its blade glinting with something dark.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I leap.
My wolf crashes into him with bone-breaking force. The sound of his body slamming into the stone floor is satisfying, but too quickly, I feel it.
