Chapter 30
Tamsin
Ashcroft was here.
And there was something about him that wasn’t right.
He jerked away from the councilor at his side, breathing a bit too quickly. For a heartbeat he just stood there, shaking and fighting a part of himself.
He didn’t stay that way for long.
His spine arched with a sudden, ugly bend. His other hand clawed at his own collar, ripping buttons free. The hall went quieter as nearby conversations faltered and stopped. People turned. Faces tilted up toward him.
“Lord Ashcroft?” someone called from the floor.
He didn’t answer.
Bone shifted under flesh with a series of muffled cracks.
His shoulders broadened, the seams of his coat straining, then tearing as his body pushed past the shape it was supposed to have.
Fingers lengthened, nails darkening and curving into claws.
His breath came out in ragged gasps that edged closer to snarls.
Someone screamed.
Ashcroft’s head snapped back, teeth lengthening, jaw stretching. His coat finally gave up, shredding at the shoulders. Fur burst through, silver and dark gray. His legs bowed, knees twisting, feet realigning into paws that slammed against the floor.
The room dissolved into chaos.
People lurched away from him, shrieking, dropping drinks, grabbing at each other. A few pushed toward the exits all at once, forming instant bottlenecks. Guards reached for weapons with hands that had never actually expected to use them in a crowded hall.
“Griff,” I shrieked.
He was already moving, cutting off the panicked crowd as they surged toward the main doors.
“Slow down! One at a time, move, don’t shove,” he barked.
“Elias, with me,” I said.
He fell into step without question, flanking me as I pushed forward, angling us between groups so we didn’t get caught in the tide.
Ashcroft dropped to all fours with a final cruel crack of bone and a last tear of fabric. For a second, he was still, crouched there on the polished floor, a massive wolf, fur bristling, eyes blown wide and wild.
It was clear that he had gone feral.
Dane chose that exact moment to push forward from the back of the hall, because of course he did. He was flanked by his men and moving like he was the hand of order returning to a room that had forgotten who controlled it.
“Contain that wolf!” he shouted, pointing toward Ashcroft. “Shoot if you have to!”
His goons drew their guns without a moment’s hesitation.
Ashcroft’s head snapped toward him like a compass needle finding north.
The wolf that had once been Ashcroft bared his teeth in a snarl that showed every one of them, strings of saliva hanging from his jaws.
Then he launched.
It wasn’t graceful.
But it was fast.
He hit Dane like an avalanche. They went down together in a tangle of coat and fur and flailing limbs. Dane got one hand up, reaching for the gun he hadn’t had time to aim. Ashcroft’s jaws closed on his throat.
The fight didn’t last long.
Blood sprayed across the polished floor, bright and shocking against the brass and marble. Someone nearby screamed again, higher, more ragged. Dane’s eyes went wide, then glassy, his fingers twitching once before going limp.
The nearest of Dane’s men fired.
The shot went wide, cracking into the wall behind him, showering dust and plaster. Ashcroft spun, jaws snapping, and bit the man’s shoulder, teeth sinking in, shaking hard enough that I heard bone give way.
Ashcroft finished tearing through Dane’s men with a brutal efficiency that made my stomach churn. They were trained, armed, prepared to hurt my people, and I still couldn’t enjoy watching them get ripped apart.
Ashcroft spun, sides heaving, muzzle red. For a heartbeat, his gaze swept the hall, looking for someone else to tear apart.
Then his feral gaze locked onto me.
Every instinct I had screamed.
I didn’t move.
“Hold,” I said, voice as calm as I could make it.
Ashcroft took a step toward me, paws thumping against the floor, lips peeling back from his teeth in a snarl that rolled through his chest.
“Come on,” I murmured, just loud enough for him and the wolves nearest me to hear. “You wanted center stage, didn’t you?”
My fingers went down and found the leather strap of my knife snug against my thigh. The familiar hilt met my palm, solid, just as it had felt the day my parents had put it in my hand way back on the Isle of Skye.
I drew it in one smooth motion.
He lunged.
I dove sideways, feeling the rush of air and the heat of his body pass where my chest had been a heartbeat before. He spun, faster than should have been possible for a creature that size.
Ashcroft lunged again, this time catching the edge of my dress.
Cloth tore with a sick ripping sound, dragging me off balance. I went down hard on one knee, palms skidding on polished wood, the sting of it barely cutting through the roar in my ears.
He reared over me, a massive wall of fur and teeth and heat, breath hot and sour with the metallic stench of blood.
For a heartbeat, all I could see was his jaws opening.
I rolled.
His paw slammed down where my chest had been, claws scraping a furrow through the floor, splinters flying. I came up in a crouch, heart pounding, dress hanging in tatters around my legs.
Ashcroft spun toward me, lips peeling back. His hackles stood in a jagged ridge down his spine, muscles bunching under his coat. The gas had him completely now. Whatever human calculation had been left was long gone now.
He came at me in a low, fast rush.
Behind me, I heard bones shift.
The sound of it was deeply familiar. My pack was shifting.
In seconds, five wolves ringed us. They didn’t pile onto Ashcroft.
They didn’t lunge for his throat. They formed a moving wall between him and the civilians, snapping at anyone who got too close, snarling at panicked guards who thought firing into the mess was a good idea.
“Hold! Do not shoot anyone!” I shouted, the words cracking out of my throat.
They listened. My pack and the guards.
Ashcroft’s charge hit the space where I’d been a heartbeat before. I stepped sideways, light on my feet despite the shredded dress, and slashed out. The knife bit into his shoulder as he barreled past me, causing hot blood to spray across my hand, thick and shockingly bright against the steel.
He roared, stumbling, momentum carrying him into a toppled table. Wood shattered under his weight, food, drinks, glasses, and dishes clattering and smashing around him.
I spun to face him again, chest heaving.
“Come on,” I muttered, knife steady. “You owe me more than that.”
He surged up and forward, head low, eyes burning. One paw lashed out, fast. Claws raked across my forearm as I brought the knife up too slowly to fully block. Pain flared white-hot, but I gritted my teeth and pushed right through it. I tasted blood in my mouth and realized I’d bitten my own tongue.
Ashcroft lunged again. I ducked, spun, felt his fur brush my shoulder as he went over me. As he landed, I was ready and drove the knife up in a hard, tight thrust.
Steel met flesh just behind his front leg, the point punching between ribs, angling toward his heart.
The impact jolted up my arm. Warmth flooded my hand as the blade sank deep.
He screamed.
It wasn’t a wolf sound or a human one. It was something torn between both, a horrible warbling keening that made the hair on my arms stand up.
His body convulsed, muscles seizing around the steel.
For a second, he tried to power through it, claws scrabbling against the floor, paws slipping in his own blood.
I held on, pushed in harder.
“Stay down,” I snarled, teeth gritted, twisting the knife.
His legs buckled.
He crashed to the floor on his side, the force of it nearly wrenching the hilt from my hand. I let it go at the last second, letting the blade stay buried where I’d put it. His paws twitched, claws gouging uselessly at the polished wood. His breath came in wet gasps, then shallower, then slower.
His eyes rolled, dulling.
He wheezed once more, a horrible bubbling sound.
Then he stopped.
I crouched down and pulled out my knife, then stood back up and looked around the hall, at my wolves, at Zara’s and Sera’s, at the rescued wolves who still stood upright and sane despite the gas that had been meant to turn them feral. At all the people staring back at me in shock.
“Remember this,” I said. “When you talk about sending wolves away. When you talk about how they all turn feral. Remember who actually lost control today.”