Chapter 23 #2
“You killed Elias’s mother?” I gasp, the pieces falling into place. She was murdered by the woman who replaced her.
Saloma's smile is evil incarnate. “Accidents happen to those who stand in my way. Just as they'll happen to my stepson if necessary. Matthew and Leo are my blood. They deserve the Bellandi legacy, not that arrogant firstborn.”
“That’s why you’re doing this. He’s going to make your son alpha.”
She answers with a smile and shrug.
“Begin the ritual,” Lockhart orders.
She approaches with the knife, its edge catching moonlight as she raises it. “The old ways require blood. Her blood must anoint the altar.”
My wolf surges forward with renewed panic, lending me strength I didn't know I had. I buck against the hands holding me, twisting violently as Saloma brings the blade toward my exposed collarbone.
“Hold her still!” she commands.
The hands on my shoulders tighten painfully, the grip strong enough to bruise.
I can feel my power fading as the knife descends.
I twist desperately, throwing my head back with all my strength.
The movement jerks my neck into the firelight, exposing my throat, as the harness covering my mark breaks under the strain.
Saloma freezes, the knife hovering inches from my skin. Her eyes widen, fixed on a point at the base of my neck.
“Wait,” she hisses, leaning closer to inspect whatever has caught her attention. “She’s mated.”
“Impossible,” he snarls, shoving Saloma aside to see for himself. His grip clamps around my jaw, forcing my head to the side until the mark at my throat catches the torchlight.
Saloma stumbles back, her composure cracking. “It’s a true mates bond,” she gasps, as if speaking it aloud makes it more real.
Lockhart's roar of rage shatters the night, sending birds scattering from the surrounding trees.
“You see?” I laugh, even as the sound tears at my raw throat. “I'm already mated. You can't have me.”
His hand connects with my face again, harder this time. I taste fresh blood, but I don't give him the satisfaction of crying out. My wolf howls in triumph inside me—let him see that I'm not his to break.
“This changes nothing,” Lockhart snarls, turning to the masked observers whose murmurs have grown louder, more uncertain.
“You can’t break a true mate bond. Not without killing them both.”
Lockhart's face contorts with fury as he looms over me. “We'll see about that.”
He grabs my face, fingers digging into my cheeks as he forces me to look at him. His eyes have already begun to change, amber bleeding into the irises as his wolf pushes forward.
“The ceremony continues,” he announces to his followers, though I notice several shifting uncomfortably. “True mate or not, I will have what is mine.”
“Thomas, stop. You don't understand what you're dealing with. A true mate bond can't be overwritten. If you try to force a bond over a true mate bond, you'll kill her, taking her bloodline with her.” Saloma insists.
“Bleed her, Saloma. Fucking do it.”
Saloma hesitates, the knife trembling in her hand. “This isn't what we agreed to. You promised me power, not a bloodbath.”
“Do it!” Lockhart roars, his face contorting as his wolf pushes closer to the surface. The moonlight catches his features, highlighting the inhuman rage that transforms them.
“He'll come for me. Damien’s already hunting you. And when he finds you there won't be enough left of you to bury.”
Lockhart backhands me again, his ring catching my cheekbone. Pain explodes across my face, but I laugh through it, tasting blood and victory.
“Hit me all you want,” I taunt, feeling reckless power surge through me as the moon climbs higher. “It won't change what Damien and I have. It won't make me yours.”
“Shut up!” he roars, grabbing me by the throat. His fingers press against my windpipe, cutting off my air. “Stop saying his name.”
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I struggle for breath. My wolf howls in panic, throwing herself against the cage of my ribs. The moon calls to her—to us—stronger than ever before. I feel her clawing for control, desperate to save us both.
“Thomas, stop!” Saloma grabs his arm, trying to pull him away. “You’re killing her.”
His fingers tighten around my throat, the pressure building until stars explode in my vision. Through the encroaching darkness, I see several of the masked figures shifting uncomfortably, backing away from what's unfolding.
“I'll take what's mine!” Lockhart roars, his face contorted with rage. “One way or another!”
The world blurs at the edges, oxygen-starved and fading, when his grip suddenly loosens. I gasp desperately, dragging air into my burning lungs as Lockhart's face swims back into focus.
“No,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “That's too quick.” He turns to Saloma, who's watching with barely concealed horror. “Change of plans.”
“Thomas—” she starts, but he cuts her off with a raised hand.
“I want the Reaper to see what becomes of those who take what’s mine.”
My blood runs cold as the meaning sinks in. He drags me off the altar, his fist tangled cruelly in my hair.
“Find him,” he commands one of the masked followers. His grip wrenches my head back, exposing my throat to the moonlight. “I want him to watch as I open her up. I want him to see her blood stain sacred ground.”
I fight against him with renewed frenzy, twisting, clawing, anything to break free. His hold only tightens, sharp pain lancing across my scalp and forcing tears to my lashes. My gaze flicks toward the tree line, hunting for the shadow of Damien. Is he there? Has he found me?
“You’re making a mistake,” Saloma hisses, striding forward, the sharp edge of panic breaking through her usual composure. “Killing her will bring the wrath of every pack down on us. They'll hunt us to extinction.”
“Let them try.” Lockhart's laugh has a manic edge that makes my skin crawl. “When I'm done, they'll know better than to challenge me.”
I struggle against his grip, feeling my wolf surge closer to the surface as the moonlight bathes the clearing. She's so close now, clawing beneath my skin, demanding release. The zip ties dig into my wrists as I twist, searching for any weakness.
Damien?
The bond flares suddenly—a supernova of rage and relief flooding through me. I gasp, my eyes flying to the trees surrounding us.
“Your executioner is here,” I say, unable to contain the smile that spreads across my face despite the blood trickling from my split lip. I laugh, the sound wild and untethered.
A howl splits the night—deep, commanding, and unmistakably alpha. It's followed by another, then another, until the forest rings with them, the sound coming from all directions at once. The masked figures freeze, heads swiveling as they try to locate the source of the threat.
The Reaper has come for me and no one will be spared.