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“Stop!” The scream rips through my chest, and I hustle across the courtyard.

Shovel still raised for the kill, Titus pauses, and I slide between him and Will.

“I won’t let you do this.” Adrenaline pounds through my veins, my whole body trembling, as I wait for the Alpha to thrust that shovel into my chest.

“Thalia, what are you doing?” Will says behind me, but a hard elbow to the chest shuts him up.

Eyes locked with Titus, I silently challenge him to strike me.

He doesn’t move.

“Titus,” Remus says, casually strolling up from behind, but keeping his distance, as well. “That’s enough exercise for today.”

Jaw tight, the Alpha continues to stare down at me, his golden eyes twitching, and my muscles brace for the impact of that metal slamming into them with brute force. He lowers the shovel and tosses it off to the side, setting my stomach at ease.

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

If given the chance, I’m certain he would’ve killed Will.

Chapter 17

I slide the bread I tucked away from earlier through the window of the cell, and Will practically snatches it out of my hands, moaning as he bites into it. “You’re a fool to take on an Alpha. Don’t you remember the stories?” A quick, unmet glare toward the other cell is all I can do to keep from wanting to stab the Alpha myself.

“I remember,” Will says around a mouthful of bread. “I didn’t have a choice. It was that, or the whip.”

“You would’ve survived the whip, idiot.”

Bending over, he coughs, and the wet, barky sound isn’t good. In fact, it almost sounds like a bout of pneumonia, and the pallor of his skin is concerning. “Who says I wanted to survive?”

“Shut up. Don’t say that.” I lean in and lower my voice. “I’m still working on getting you out of here, okay?”

“There is no getting out, Thalia. Everyone who’s tried has been hunted.”

“So, I should give up? Stay here, and live the rest of our lives trapped in this hellhole? What the hell is wrong with you, Will?”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. Not at you.”

The hard clank of a door steels my muscles, and I snap my gaze toward Tom’s guard post.

“I have to go.” Before I can exit, Tom plows through the door with a look of distress, and my heart triple pounds against my ribs.

“It’s Agatha.” He unlocks the door to Titus’s cell and swings it open. “You need to busy yourself, or she will have my ass.” With a hard shove against my back, he pushes me into the cell, and I nearly tumble onto the floor. “Listen to me, you can’t be visiting the other prisoner. They get wise? It won’t be good.”

The moment he exits, Agatha’s voice calls out to him like blades scraping over my eardrum.

I scoop some water from the bucket, and kneel on the floor beside Titus, offering it to him. After a moment of hesitation, he accepts the proffered drink, and with unsteady hands, I run my fingers over one of his bandages, catching the hard flex of his shoulder.

Agatha sweeps past the open door, staring down at me with a smirk as she passes.

Toward Will’s cell.

Frowning, I pause to listen to her soft cooing. The click of the lock. Sounds of Will’s protest.

Is she hurting him?

Moans and feminine giggles.