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Mine, the Alpha inside of me roars, rising with a claim so primal and feral it shakes the foundations of what I thought I knew about designations.
MINE. OURS. FOREVER.
Idril’s answer flows across our Bond. There are no words, but that doesn’t matter. We don’t need them. I can understand her as clearly as if she were shouting the answer out loud.
Yes. Yours. Always yours. I’ll set it all ablaze before I let them part us.
My world has just been permanently altered, and despite the magnitude of the shift, only a few seconds have passed in real-time.
And I don’t even get a moment to process any of it.
“Well, isn’t this fucking beautiful?” Varenthrall’s voice shatters the most important moment of my life.
His words pull us both back to the blood-soaked nightmare we’re trapped in, and reality crashes in on me with terrible, brutal clarity.
I snarl, a sound of pure Alpha rage. Grabbing Idril by the waist, I try to push her behind me.
But the silver’s already working through my system, making my limbs heavy and my movements sluggish.
Varenthrall’s expensive shoes tap a cruel staccato beat across the bloody marble as he approaches. Each step is deliberate. Unhurried. Precise. Like he knows he’s won and is simply waiting for us to catch up.
“Look at the two of you,” he sneers, lip curling in disgust. “Falling all over each other like animals in heat.”
He cocks his head to the side, surveying our position with cruel amusement. “And here I am, with a single silver bullet left. All I have to decide now… is which of you gets to redecorate my foyer with your insides.”
Everything in me wants to respond to the taunt—to lunge across the space separating us and rip his throat out with my fangs.
My body strains, muscles shaking with the effort of holding back, knowing I’m not in a position to strike.
Idril’s response shocks both of us.
It starts soft—a snarl that’s less predator and more angry kitten. Then, it changes, growing into something deeper. More intense. A resonance pulled from somewhere primal—somewhere I didn’t know Omegas could reach.
Her lips peel back from her teeth. Her body, smeared in blood like war paint, starts to shake. The growl she releases is as feral as any Alpha’s roar.
I watch in awe as she stands. Slowly, like every part of her hurts. Her legs tremble so violently, I worry they’ll give out. Her hands—still covered in my blood—clench into fists at her sides.
Every instinct she has is begging her to stay down. Stay safe. Submit. I know, because I can fucking feel it.
But Fates…she stands anyway.
Feet planted wide for balance, her chin lifts and defiance gleams in her eyes.
In this moment, she’s not a fragile Omega cowering before her father in terror.
She’s an angel of death, come to drag us to the fiery depths of eternal hell.
If given the choice, I’d follow her. Willingly. Happily. Straight into damnation and the flames beyond.
She moves, taking a step toward her father. Toward danger. Her voice is full of resolve when she snarls, “You—”
“Will—”
She takes another threatening step forward.
“Not—”
Her entire body vibrates with unrestrained fury.
