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“You did fail,” I bite out as fury floods through me. “I’ll never join the witches. I’ll never help you fight against the wolves.”
“Oh?” Clint gives me a knowing look, and another raspy laugh bubbles up his throat. The insane gleam in his eye sparkles dangerously. “The magic hasn’t already spoken to you?”
Horror turns my body cold and numb. I remember the darkness hovering over my bed during my transition.
It pushed me. Taunted me. Goaded me.
Kill them all.
But I fought it. I didn’t hurt any of my men during that transition. I told that voice no, and I fought it off.
Didn’t I?
Could he be right? Am I a ticking time bomb with no control over the magic?
No. It’s not true. It can’t be.
I refuse to let this man manipulate my emotions or make me doubt myself. No matter what hand he had in my birth, he has no control over who I become now. So I shove my doubts away; I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
Never again.
“It doesn’t matter if it did,” I tell him, my voice cold and hard in the still night air. “And it doesn’t matter if I’m part witch and part wolf. I’ve chosen my side, you slimy fucking worm. And it’s with the men I love.”
Clint’s eyes widen in shock. He’s never heard me speak to him that way; he probably didn’t believe I even could.
A sudden rage contorts his features, and he bucks against the dirt, throwing his hips up. The sharpness of the movement loosens Ridge and Trystan’s grip on him. Moving faster than I would’ve thought possible, the older man rolls over, leaping to his feet.
He raises his hands, and it feels like the temperature around me drops ten degrees as black smoke gathers at his fingertips. I surge forward, forgetting about my nakedness, forgetting that I don’t know how to use my own magic well enough to utilize it in combat. All I know is that I won’t let the man who manipulated and abused me hurt any of the men I love.
But Ridge and Trystan are faster than I am. I’ve barely taken two steps before they shift back into their wolf forms, leaping toward Clint with their jaws snapping.
I can tell Ridge holds back, attempting to subdue Clint without hurting him. But Trystan has no such qualms. His powerful jaws bite down on the man’s neck so hard that blood spurts. My sensitive ears hear bones crunch, and then Clint sinks to the ground on his belly.
My body freezes in shock, the world seeming to slow around me as I watch the man who raised me fall. Somehow, it makes sense to me that Trystan was the one to make the killing blow. The one to destroy the man who hurt me.
He fought so hard for me to stay home and be safe. This is how he takes care of me.
And despite the nausea that fills me as a coppery scent stings my nostrils, I’m a little relieved.
It’s over.
Clint goes limp, blood puddling beneath his face. His maniacal eyes meet mine, and he chuckles. Even as his life’s blood spills from his body and the light and consciousness leave his eyes, he chuckles.
Our gazes meet one last time. He grins, the same sadistic smile he’s given me for years. Only now, it doesn’t cut as deeply. It doesn’t fill me with fear or loathing.
It’s just kind of pathetic.
Clint blinks, and his eyes become unfocused. With his last breath, he rasps, “Oh, child. You better hope she doesn’t find out about you.”
“Who?” I demand, taking a single step forward, as if I can keep him alive and make him talk through the sheer force of my will. “Hope who doesn’t find out?”
But it’s too late.
My fake uncle is gone, taking all of his secrets with him.
***
