A brutal, clawed strike aimed directly at Gunner’s face.
Gunner blocked it barely before both Wolves slammed into each other with enough force to crack the cobblestones beneath them.
The sound was horrifying.
Snarling.
Bone.
Magic.
Years of resentment exploded all at once.
Gunner hit back hard, fist cracking against Arthur’s jaw before the Alpha tackled him bodily into a nearby game booth.
Wood shattered everywhere.
“STOP IT!” I yelled.
Neither listened.
Of course they didn’t.
They were Wolves.
Meanwhile Menon went utterly still beside me.
Too still.
Moonlight rolled off him in violent waves now.
The celestial markings beneath his skin glowed blindingly bright while his expression shifted into something ancient and terrifying.
Not merely angry.
Royally angry.
Then Arthur snarled something vicious beneath the chaos?—
“That Witch should’ve been an easy target even for you! A fat, powerless abomination.”
Menon moved instantly.
One second he stood beside me.
The next—he crossed the distance in a blur of silver-blue power.
The punch landed with a crack that echoed across the entire midway.
Arthur McFadden flew sideways hard enough to take out an entire fried dough stand before collapsing unconscious in the rubble.
Silence.
Absolute stunned silence.
Even Gunner froze.
Menon flexed his hand once slowly before speaking in the calmest voice imaginable.
