Page 226 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

No, the man did.

No. Both.

There was no clean line anymore. The man had made the decision. The wolf carried it out. Tear. Break. Protect. End. The bond burned through the chest, hooked in deep, and the man found the roots with hands made for killing.

Rip.

Pain.

Cassie.

No.

Do not turn.

Run, Cassie. Run.

A Thorne wolf came at the left flank, teeth wide, eyes bright. He died with his ribs opened under my claws. Another hit my back. I rolled, crushed him beneath me, bit down until bone gave and the hot rush filled my mouth.

Blood tasted like iron. Rain thinned it.

The courtyard moved in pieces.

Ronan shouting.

Silas laughing.

Cormac bleeding from the shoulder and driving a wolf back with both hands buried in its throat.

Humans gone.

Good.

Gone.

Find the gate. Guard the route.

But first the binding.

The thing under my ribs throbbed and pulled toward Cassie. It wanted. It reached. It begged in a voice that sounded like mine and not mine.

Mine.

No.

Leash.

No.

Cassie.

No.

Let her live.

The man inside the wolf put his claws into the pain and tore, and the world flashed white.

Cassie screamed. I felt it across the severing line.