Page 106 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“It is.” His charm cracked further, anger seeping through. “I’ve been patient. More than patient. I’ve given you space, time to come to your senses. I even tried to be understanding about this little...fantasy you’re chasing. But my patience has limits.”

The threat in his voice made my pulse spike.

“This is your last chance, Rebecca.” He held my gaze, and for a moment I saw something almost pleading beneath the anger. “Come home with me now. We’ll forget all of this happened. We’ll marry, I’ll break the curse, and everything goes back to the way it should be.”

“And if I refuse?”

His expression hardened. “Then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself for what happens next.”

A growl cut through the air—low, feral, dangerous.

I spun to see Axel emerge from the workshop, his eyes already wolf-yellow, his entire body coiled with lethal intent. He must have heard our voices. Must have sensed the threat.

“Go inside, Rebecca.” His voice was barely human.

“Ah.” Ambrose’s smile turned sharp. “The mongrel himself. How rustic.”

Axel ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “Now, sweetheart.”

“I’m not⁠—“

“Now.”

The command in his voice brooked no argument. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t leave him here to face Ambrose alone, even with the protection ward between them.

Axel reached me in three strides, positioning himself between me and Ambrose. The protective instinct rolled off him in waves, his wolf so close to the surface I could practically feel it.

“You.” Axel’s voice dropped to a growl. “Get the fuck off my property.”

“I would,” Ambrose said pleasantly, spreading his hands. “But your little witch and I were having such a productive conversation. Weren’t we, Rebecca?”

“She’s done talking to you.”

“Is she?” Ambrose’s gaze slid past Axel to me. “Are you going to let him speak for you? Control you? Because that’s what this is, you know. Werewolves love control. Their entire hierarchy of power is built from it. That’s what you’d be doing—signing up for a caged existence.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” I shot back. “You’re the one who wants to chain me to a marriage contract.”

“I want to give you your birthright back. There’s a difference.”

“The only difference is the packaging.” Axel’s hands flexed at his sides, claws threatening to emerge. “Now leave. Before I make you.”

Ambrose laughed. “You can’t touch me, wolf. Whatever magical protection ward you have here—it keeps you in as much as it keeps me out. We’re at an impasse.”

“For now.”

“For as long as it takes.” Ambrose’s smile faded, his expression turning cold. “But she can’t hide here forever. Eventually she’ll have to leave. Go to work. Run errands. Live her life. And when she does—when you’re not there to play guard dog—I’ll be waiting.”

The threat hung in the air between us.

“Stay away from her,” Axel snarled. “Protection ward or not, I will hunt you down and rip you apart.”

“Big words from someone who’s barely even sane.” Ambrose’s words were calculated, cruel.

Axel lunged forward⁠—

And stopped abruptly as I grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” I whispered. “That’s what he wants. To get under your skin.”

His muscles were rigid beneath my touch, his whole body vibrating with barely leashed violence. But he didn’t pull away from me.