26 #2
Reality strikes with the clarity of a lightning bolt—because Sin and I are touching in front of the entire court, embracing —but I don’t have time to process our public display of affection.
Something sharp pierces my hand in the next second, followed by an implosion of agonizing fire.
I blink, my entire body seizing in shock, before glancing down.
There is a silver dagger impaled in my hand.
Shit.
The pain seems to intensify at the gruesome sight of it, and—as if my brain has finally caught up to my body—I hiss and fall away from Sin, backward, down the steps.
Clawing at my wrist and landing on my ass.
The blade sticks out of my palm, the hilt shoved so deep that it’s lodged in my bone.
A wave of nausea rises in my throat at the friction, and my mind scrambles wildly to make sense of what I’m seeing.
I’ve… I’ve been stabbed. Someone stabbed me .
A cry of terror almost escapes my lips when Evie leaps in front of me, fangs bared for all to see. And she—she must’ve—
My insides turn to ice.
“Keep your hands off my future fucking mate,” she snarls, “or next time I’ll cut it off.”
Eric howls in encouragement at her side, a hulking beast with red eyes. Red eyes. Just like that, a memory of another wolf— another pair of red eyes —rises in my mind, and I flinch away from him reflexively, remembering.
The second wolf rushes out from the shadows, snaps me up in its jaws, and… and bites.
Adrenaline courses through me at the phantom pain in my side—at the very real pain in my hand—followed by rage. Visceral rage. I flex my fingers, the bite of agony from the silver blade so vast, I feel it all the way to my toes. “You,” I growl.
Evie moves closer, bending over me and grabbing me by my throat.
“ Shut up ,” she demands, her voice harsh and rough and compelling .
Words vanish on my tongue as I swipe at her with the blade lodged in my hand, but she outmaneuvers me, twisting away before I can slice her.
“Do you understand where you are, Mutt? This is the Wolf Queen’s Court, and you are no one . You are the shit beneath our shoes—”
“Evelyn,” Sin snaps.
“No. It’s time she understands her place.” Evie glares at him, and the werewolves nearest us take a few steps back. They do not help. They will not save me. To them, this is merely a conflict that must be resolved— I am a conflict that must be resolved.
Though Evie’s hand clenches tighter around my windpipe, Sin grabs her shoulders and rips her away from me. Evie flies backward, barely landing on her feet before Sin extends his ebony claws in warning.
“You will not lay a hand on her in my court ,” he commands— compels .
And it shouldn’t be possible; it shouldn’t work.
But Evie freezes, rooted to the floor. Sin straightens, the picture of an avenging angel, and stalks closer to her with those claws still bared.
Still lethal. The underlying threat in his voice raises even my hackles. “Do you understand? Answer me. ”
Her jaw clenches, and she resists the compulsion for several seconds before her chin dips in the smallest of nods.
Yes, she understands, but she still looks at me with murder in her eyes and says, “The day at the beach was an atrocious mistake. You should have been shredded to ribbons like your pathetic friend.” Then, through gritted teeth: “I should’ve done it myself. ”
My hands shake as I jump to my feet. Blood roars in my ears, and I fight it. I fight her compulsion until my knuckles break and my vision runs red. “Don’t you dare talk about Celeste.”
Evie tilts her head with a calculating stare, and a slow, cruel smile spreads across her cold face. “Why shouldn’t I? She can’t hear me, Vanessa. She’s still dead —roadkill on that back alley, splattered on the grill of a semitruck. Don’t you remember?”
Before I can react, Sin shifts with an ear-shattering roar.
Between one second and the next, he transforms into a vicious gray wolf with vibrant red eyes and charges at Evie.
I don’t care. In this moment, he could gut her.
He could tear out her organs in front of the court, and it would not be vengeance enough.
Of course, he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t hurt her—he can’t .
She is Princess of the Asian Court; even compelling her was utterly foolish.
I grab the golden hilt of the dagger and yank it from my hand, then throw it on the floor.
I should lodge it in Evie’s heart, but I can’t do that either.
Not without dying here and now. The werewolves in the court gawk at us; some toss rubble in my direction while others chant for me to fight and end this, but I can’t .
Not like this.
When Sin pins Evie to the ground, I run.
Out of the throne room and up the first staircase I see.
Up and up and up . My legs move even when my lungs explode.
Even as my wound bleeds and fangs rip from my mouth.
She murdered Celeste. She stabbed me. And her brother—her brother might’ve Bitten me. He must’ve Bitten me.
I want to kill them. I need to kill them.
I pause at the top of the stairs, in front of a familiar classroom door. Beyond the glass window are long wooden benches. Beakers and cauldrons arranged neatly in a cabinet of curiosities. Scorch marks on the wall and holes blown into the ceiling.
The Alchemical Designs classroom.
Good.
I enter quietly, and it’s as if I’ve been hypnotized. I register nothing but the stalks of slender purple flowers dying on the rack near Instructor Bhat’s adamantine desk.
Wolfsbane.
I snatch a flower from the rack.
It’s time; I can’t wait anymore. Evie needs to pay, and I will never win in a fair fight against her.
I wasn’t raised like them—raised to value violence and malice and brutality.
But I have lived amongst them long enough to know my strengths.
To know their weaknesses. I swallow hard.
The gaping wound in my hand oozes blood onto my feet.
If I’m going to be executed for treason, I don’t care about fighting fair. I only care about justice.
From behind me, however, Calix says, “That’s strike three, Hart.”
And I know I’ve lost.