LA

my chest, the world didn'

through a rainstorm; I could hear a heart skip a beat from fifty yards away. But nothing in my year

or a fated whisper. It

t erupted at the point of contact. It surged through my palms, up my forearms, and crashed into my ribcag

at

down at the pale, blood-streaked face of the woman in my arms. I knew this face. I had seen it in intellige

he woman who belonged to the one man I had

humor. I tried to shove the feeling down, to cast it into the darkest corner of my conscio

overwhelming. If I killed her now, the bond would sever. The heat would die. The problem would be solved before it ev

would take to end the iron

heavy, metallic stench of fresh, stagnant blood. It

. The fabric of her dress wasn't just torn; it had been shredded into her skin. The white si

he overlapping welt

all through the brambles. This was a formal execution of a sentence.

rise to my face, my vision tunneling as the image of Greenwood flashed in my mind. That arrogant, self-righteous cow

ega and dump her in the neutra

one truly understood. But seeing this... seeing what he had done to th

cted at the empty air toward the M

y legs. The woman was a dead weight in my arms, her breathing so s

l began to war with th

y own house. I was inviting the scent of betrayal into my halls. The easiest, most logical path was to leave her here for the wolves. Let

hand... she coul

walls, and the psychological fractures of their leadership. More importantly, she was a living testament to Greenwood's fail

there wa

that defied my hatred. My wolf was pacing, snapping at the edges of my mind, demanding that I protect

tic. She was a "weak" Omega, the very thing I had spent my

ieth lash but this woman had made it through fifty las

n exterior. A resilience that wasn't supposed to

" I barked int