Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
D ark energy crackled around him as he pressed his advantage, battering Rook with magically enhanced strikes. Pain bloomed across Rook’s shoulders, but his tiger welcomed it, using the hurt to sharpen their focus. Every blow fueled their rage, their need to protect their mate driving them beyond normal limits.
They careened through the forest, destroying everything in their path. Trees splintered under their combined weight. The ground tore up beneath their claws. Blood—both his and Justus’s—stained the earth black in the moonlight.
Through their savage battle, Rook caught glimpses of the cabin. The shadow witch had vanished, using their fight as cover to escape. Banner and Weston worked to free Clover from her restraints.
A familiar spark of green magic flickered at the edge of his awareness. Clover, somehow still conscious, poured her remaining energy into a counter-spell. The corrupt magic enhancing Justus’s strength wavered.
Rook seized the opening. He ducked under Justus’s wild swing and clamped his jaws around his uncle’s throat. They crashed to the forest floor, Justus thrashing as Rook’s teeth broke skin. Blood filled his mouth. One precise twist would end it.
His tiger demanded death, retribution for threatening their mate. But the alpha in him knew this wasn’t his judgment alone to make. With supreme effort, he pinned Justus down, crushing his limbs until bones snapped.
A pained cry from the cabin’s direction shattered his focus. Clover had collapsed, magic dangerously low. Fear replaced fury as he shifted back to human form, leaving Banner and Weston to secure the beaten Justus.
He reached Clover just as Madame Zephyrine and Neve materialized through the shattered front door. The twin witches moved with urgent purpose, their combined power illuminating the destroyed cabin.
“Step back,” Madame Zephyrine commanded. “We must purge the shadow magic before it consumes her completely.”
Rook’s tiger howled at the thought of moving away, but he forced himself to give them space. The sisters worked in perfect synchronization, weaving light and healing magic around Clover’s still form. Their voices rose in an ancient chant as they drew the corruption from her body like poison from a wound.
“Take her to the pride lodge,” Neve instructed once the ritual ended. “She’ll need time to recover.”
Everything blurred into motion. Banner and Weston dragged the broken but living Justus to the lodge’s secure holding cells. The pride council convened an emergency session, elders arguing over his fate while Rook paced outside the healing rooms where Clover rested.
His tiger clawed at his control, demanding they finish what they started. The urge to tear Justus apart warred with his duty as alpha to uphold pride law.
“Let me up, you overprotective beast.” Clover’s weak voice drew him to her side. “I need to tell them something.”
“You need to rest.”
“What I need is to tell the council what your uncle confessed.” Steel threaded through her tone despite her exhaustion. “About your father’s death.”
Ice flooded Rook’s veins. “What?”
Before she could answer, power rolled through the lodge like thunder. Ren Athran, one of Mystic Hollow’s founders, strode into the council chamber. Though he appeared no older than Rook, ancient magic radiated from him in palpable waves. His presence commanded attention, alpha energy and dragon power combining into something primordial and fierce.
Fury blazed in his eyes as they fell on Justus. Every person in the room instinctively backed away from his barely contained rage.
The time for judgment had come.