Page 42 of Savage Prince

But I can already hear Juliet’s response to that. She’d tell me she doesn’t need anyone to take care of her, that she can take care of herself and me and anyone else she decides is worthy of being on her “Under my Protection” list. Then she’d encourage me to focus on staying alive and keep my nose out of her business.

Damn, I love her.

I love her stubbornness and her courage and the way she absolutely refuses to give up on the people she cares about. She’s going to be an incredible Alpha. If I’m lucky enough to rule beside her, she’ll keep me on my toes. And probably boss me around every day for the rest of my life.

As Hermione and I straddle our bikes and she lifts the flare gun that will signal the start of the attack into the air, I pray for that future with everything in me. I just want to wake up next to Juliet every morning, spend my day working hard for my pack, and go skinny-dipping with her before dinner. I want to dance with her at holiday feasts and run with her through the forest during the full moon and fill the Zion history books with stories of the most boring, peaceful, bountiful, joyful rule our people have ever known.

But first I have to kill the man who tried to take that future away.

I promised Maxim I’d try to take Hammer alive, if possible, but if he gives me an excuse, I’m taking his head. Juliet won’t be truly safe until the man who currently holds the throne is gone, and her safety is my first priority, way above helping Maxim prove that the united packs can effectively administrate due process.

“Ready to take back what’s yours?” Hermione asks just as the first rays of sunlight pierce the horizon.

“I’m ready,” I say. “Thank you for fighting with us.”

“My pleasure, Prince Ford,” she says, calling me by my official title.

I haven’t felt like a prince in a long time. I was a savage in the pits, a fugitive on the run, a spy under cover, and what felt like the world’s oldest college student. But this morning, I’ll ride into Lost Moon as who I really am, a future ruler who’s been through hell and is back to take down the man who sent me there.

“We don’t stop until the day is ours,” Hermione shouts, her resonate voice echoing through the quiet air. “Fight for the world you want to leave for your children, warriors. Victory waits at the end of this and every road!” As a chorus of cheers and shouts fills the air, she fires the flare into the sky.

Orange and yellow light flashes across the hill, illuminating the fighters revving their choppers to life, reminding me of Juliet’s phoenix fire. And then we’re off, rumbling down the hill toward the still sleepy-looking Lost Moon campus.

The torches at the top of the walls are lit and the silhouettes of guards on patrol are visible as we get closer, but they don’t seem alarmed by the sound of approximately two hundred motorcycles roaring their way. The floodlights that usually illuminate the front gate remain off and there’s no obvious sign of distress from the people inside.

The guards don’t run for help, the alarms don’t sound, and not a single bullet is fired from the parapets.

Instantly, dread spreads through my core, turning my stomach to lead.

Something’s wrong.

We should stop. Turn back.

I glance over to Hermione, lifting my arm and giving the signal for “pull back” that she taught me earlier, but she’s already slowing. She taps her breaks several times, warning the people behind us that plans have changed.

I skid to stop and flip up the visor on my helmet. “They should be fighting back. Something’s wrong.”

“Agreed,” she says, scowling at the top of the walls. “Every hair on my body is standing on end. I don’t know what’s off here, but something definitely isn’t right. We’ll pull back and send the drones in for recon first. I’ll call Maxim and tell him about the change of plans on the way back up the hill.” She thrusts a hand into the air, her fingers spread wide. “Pull back to your previous positions and await orders.”

It’s then, as about half of our force turns to head back up the hill and half stays where they are, that I realize the problem isn’t behind the walls. The problem is right here, on the ground with us.

The call is coming from inside the house.

“Run!” Hermione shouts, her eyes wide as she pulls her gun from its underarm holster.

But it’s too late, the air is already full of bullets. They whine and ding off my chopper’s armor as I lay on the gas, zooming toward Lost Moon. The way back up the hill is blocked by traitors. My only chance now is to get around to the beach and swim for it.

And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to get a warning to Maxim and Juliet that the Montreal pack has turned on us before it’s too late.

Half the forces on those ships are Montreal wolves.

More than half on Juliet’s boat, but that was no-doubt Jean-Paul’s plan all along. Separate Juliet from her allies, get Zion’s princess under his control, and then…

I can’t know exactly what his plan is from there, but none of the options are good. If he’s working with Hammer, Juliet is likely going to end up dead. If he’s simply a Maxim hater, out for vengeance for the destruction of the portals to the parallel, she might fare better, but she’ll still end the day a prisoner.

Or dead, if she fights back as hard as I expect she will.

Her phoenix form is fierce and powerful, but she can’t take out Jean-Paul’s fleet of bodyguards on her own. She’s going to need help and, hopefully, the element of surprise.

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