Chapter 21 #2
Lockhart’s hand twitches at his side, his wolf pushing to the surface, drawn by the scent. He’s seconds away from doing exactly what we need him to do.
“Tell me something, Karina. Did you let him fuck you?”
“Why is that any of your business?” I challenge him.
“Because purging an unwanted pup from your womb will delay my timeline,” he snarls. “Did. You. Fuck. Him?”
I shake my head to prevent myself from retching at the thought. “My future mate will not have to worry about an unwanted pregnancy.”
“Good. I didn't take you for the type to whore yourself for protection, but one can never be too careful.”
The insult burns through me like acid, but I force a calm smile, channeling every ounce of false bravado I have left.
“Your actions drove me to seek protection, So if I fucked Damien, or Elias, or anyone else willing to stand between me and you, that’s on you, not me. You left me with no other choice.”
His face flashes with fury, and I know I’ve hit the nerve I was aiming for. Good. He leans closer, his breath hot against my face. “It was you who chose the path we find ourselves on now. You ran from me.”
“You tried to kidnap me…twice,” I remind him again. “Despite your best efforts to convince me otherwise that particular fact will never change, Thomas.”
Lockhart’s expression freezes, just for a second, before twisting into something uglier. His nostrils flare, his composure slipping as offense flares like a struck match.
“Careful,” he says quietly, the word edged with a growl. “You’re treading close to disrespect.”
I arch a brow, keeping my tone deliberately light. “I thought we’d already crossed that line.”
His hand slams down on the table between us, the sound cracking through the room. Gabriel takes a step forward, but I lift my palm to stop him. “You think this is a game? That you can mock me and walk away unscathed?”
My pulse spikes, but I don’t flinch. I let my voice go flat, cutting. “I think you’re proving my point, Thomas. You don’t understand the word no. You don’t even understand choice. You think if you hound me long enough, if you flex hard enough, you can force me into your bed and call it a bond.”
I shift closer to the edge of the couch, leaning forward so every word lands like a strike.
“Let me be very fucking clear, Thomas.” My eyes lock on his, unblinking, unafraid.
“You will never be my mate. Not in this life. Not in any life. I would rather let my bloodline die with me than ever let you try to benefit from it.”
For a heartbeat, he just stares and then something inside him shatters.
His face contorts, all pretense of control gone. “You ungrateful little—” He lunges, faster than I can breathe, his hand shooting out to catch my throat. The impact sends me sprawling back against the couch, his grip hard enough to bruise.
My wolf surges upward, claws raking just beneath my skin.
Lockhart leans in, his voice a snarl. “I’ll make you remember your place—”
The lights go out.
Emergency lights flare to life a heartbeat later, flooding the room in pulsing crimson. In that blink of illumination, the energy shifts. Thomas’s grip on my throat tightens reflexively as his head jerks toward the door.
“What the fuck—” he starts.
The emergency lights flicker, stutter, then die.
Darkness swallows everything.
A body slams against the door. A gunshot cracks the silence. The muzzle flash sears the room in white light, and for an instant, I see it all. Gabriel crumpling and blood blooming across his chest, a slender figure looming above him, silver mask glinting.
Then blackness again.
My scream sticks in my throat as Thomas yanks me over the couch, his hand like an iron collar.
“Right on time,” Thomas hisses against my ear, smug and certain. “Did you really think I’d come alone? Unlike your pathetic protectors, I plan ahead.”
“Let me go,” I snarl, clawing at his arm.
My wolf thrashes inside me, frantic, battering against the cage I keep her in.
“Damien!” I cry, his name tearing from my throat, echoing both aloud and through our frayed bond.
The connection twists, faint and broken, like static over a ruined radio. Something—or someone—is cutting us off.
The masked figure glides through the shadows, their outline barely distinguishable from the gloom. A thin spill of light from the upstairs windows catches on polished silver where their face should be. “We need to leave.”
Thomas’s grip on my throat slackens as he turns toward the newcomer. I seize the chance, slamming my elbow into his ribs with all the strength I can summon. His grunt of pain vibrates against my back, though his hold doesn’t break.
“Who are you?” The words rasp from my raw throat, every syllable scraping as my eyes strain to pierce the mask. The flickering emergency lights throw jagged shadows across the room, warping everything into something monstrous.
Before I can react, the figure lunges forward with startling speed. I feel a sharp pinch at the side of my neck, followed immediately by a warm, tingling sensation that spreads through my veins like wildfire. My limbs grow heavy within seconds.
“What did you...” My words slur as the room begins to tilt. Thomas finally releases me, and I slump against the couch, unable to command my muscles to fight back.
The figure steps closer. With deliberate slowness, they reach up and remove the mask, revealing a face I’ve seen before, sitting around the breakfast table.
Saloma Bellandi. Anselm’s Luna.
She smiles, slow and merciless, crouching close enough that I can’t look away. “We’ll make good use of you.”
And then, nothing but darkness.