Page 235 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Someone made a strangled sound. Cormac, probably. I hoped it hurt a little.

I pushed myself up. My hip screamed. My ribs threatened resignation. I stayed on my knees for half a second, then forced myself upright because yelling from the ground lacked authority.

Ian watched me. The wolf watched me. Somewhere inside him, the man was bleeding behind locked doors.

“I cannot believe you tried to make me leave you behind!” I said.

His ears flicked.

“Yes, you. Ian. The giant tragic murder rug in front of me.”

The rumble deepened.

“You tried to die like an idiot because a group of assholes who desperately wanted an excuse for this not to be real handed you one, and you took it like they were doing you a favor.”

Something moved behind his eyes.

Not enough.

Fine, I had more.

“You want to talk about leash bullshit? Let’s talk about leash bullshit.” I pressed one hand to my side and turned enough to include Ronan and every wolf staring at us. “This whole damn week, everyone has said the rite was interrupted. The rite never finished. It barely even started before I fell into the circle and Ian bit me.”

Ronan went still.

Good.

“So explain to me how some stupid control leash fully attached itself to me through a ritual all of you keep saying didn’t happen properly. How? Did the magic file paperwork early? Did the moon look down and say, well, close enough, she has poor survival instincts and a history of ignoring red flags?”

Cormac made a sound like a laugh got punched in the throat.

Nobody answered.

“That is what I thought,” I said. “Nobody knows. Not Ronan. Not the council. Not Silas, who is dead in your very dramatic fountain, so I think we can stop treating him like a reliable academic source.”

A wolf behind me shifted.

Bones cracked.

Ian’s head snapped up, and I stepped between him and the pack.

He snarled behind me, furious enough that I felt the heat of it along my spine.

“Stay,” I snapped over my shoulder.

The growl cut off.

Not gone.

Enough.

I faced Ronan, his wolves, and the council members gathering behind them in their soaked, blood-spattered dignity.

“You can all go fuck yourselves.”

Sava sighed. “There it is.”

“No,” I said. “I am not done. This is where all your stubborn, close-minded bullshit got us. Right here. In a courtyard full of bodies, with Ian ready to let you kill him because you made him believe the only way he could be loved was if someone put a leash on him!”