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Warriors surrounds us then, each looking for the enemy, hair bristling while low snarls escape angry jowls. They’re feeding off my anger. This live bolt of ire blinds me for a second, and I forget the woman I’m holding is family. My mum’s sister.
I feel my claws extend, the breaking of flesh as the talons grow and my fangs descend. Blood drips from my mouth, the sharp teeth breaking through my bottom lip while my grip on her tightens. It’s not a full shift, but close enough and the animal in me is snarling and thrashing against my skin, wanting to be let out.
Protect. Kill.
Fury blinds me, annihilating any familial love, and all I see is an enemy.
“Answer me.” Each word is spit out from between clenched teeth, the power in me as their next king forcing every wolf to bare its neck. “Now.”
“Xadiel, you’re hurting me. Let go,” Theresa whimpers, her much smaller hands trying to push me away. The stench of her fear infiltrates my senses and my chest expands, taking the acrid scent into my lungs. Right now, I don’t care who she is. Mum’s blood is all I can see; I don’t like the images in my head, made worse by her silence. “Stop this, nephew.”
“Where’s my—”
I’m cut off by the sound of a pain-filled howl that for a moment cuts off my senses. Nothing makes sense, and I’m disoriented. Sounds become muffled as my father’s cry for his mate fills the air and many others of our pack follow.
Those around me move closer in defense. To protect me.
I drop my hands from Aunt Theresa, dragging my nails down her arms as I stumble back, fingertips now drenched in her life’s essence. The force of emotions hits me hard, cutting me bloody deep, but I remain upright.
My mum’s sister does fall back, though, scrambling back away from me while another wolf flanks her. They’re a bit blurry, but enough that I can discern their whereabouts through the sudden fog weighing me down.
Who’s the man protecting her? I’m not sure yet, and I don’t care.
Not when on my next intake of breath, sound and the control of my movements comes back full force. So do the feelings of wrath and hurt mixed with a need for vengeance that isn’t mine, yet I taste it just the same.
I take off without another word toward my father.
All werewolves heed my volatile emotions and stay out of my way, following but at a safer distance. The path that leads to the garden is now crowded with other members of the pack in both forms and all sharing the same expression: devastation.
Each step closer to my family feels like lead. Heavy.
Then there’s the trail of blood; the scent of roses permeates the air.
A knot forms in my throat and pain radiates through my limbs, yet I continue toward the two figures on the ground. Tears form in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. My chest feels as though it’s caving in on itself, yet I drop beside my father and wrap an arm around him as a broken sob escapes his throat.
My mother is beneath him. His shaking moves her body, and it’s then that I take in what they’ve done.
The queen of werewolves is lifeless and... motherfuck, I can’t.
What kind of monster does this?
“Who?” The snarled words come through loud and threatening. Kneeling further down, I place my forehead against the back of his neck, trying to give him some support, but he’s inconsolable.
To lose your mate is the equivalent of no longer having a heart. Not having a soul.
And as his child, I sense that emptiness. His hurt.
“Xadiel,” a male voice says before placing his arm around my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. At once, my face turns and I bare my teeth, hand striking out. My claws dig into the top of Cain’s hand on me; he doesn’t complain. “Come, my brother. I’ll tell you what I know.”
“They decapitated her.” Voice low, I watch him nod through the dark haze currently over my eyes. “They took her from us.”
“I’m so sorry.” My friend since childhood swallows hard, chest vibrating as he fights back a howl. There’s also a large piece of fabric in his occupied grip, and he bends just enough to lay it respectfully on the ground.
“Who?” Standing, I shrug off his arm and take a protective stance in front of my parents. No one will come near them. No one will take a single step closer unless they want their throat ripped out.
Until I have a killer, everyone’s a suspect.
“We don’t know how they got onto our lands or who the bastards are.”
