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Besides, like she told me, she’s half-witch. She might feel like she has a stake in both sides of this, for all I know. I remember hearing about people like her before, but I never thought I’d actually meet one. I wonder how she came to be. Maybe she’ll tell me one day while she’s teaching me. There was something so soothing about sitting with her, something so right and natural and easy about it. I can’t wait to visit her again.

She smiles when she finds me watching her, inclining her head. Is this really happening? I never thought my life would turn out like this. There’s acceptance here. People who are glad to see me. Only a couple of weeks ago, I was nobody. I was hated, resented, the pack shame. I showed up with my family at the welcoming ceremony, and I was practically chased out by Hannah’s nastiness.

Look at me now. I wish she could see me, but that would mean she was here, and I don’t want that. My life is better without her in it.

Though if she could see me with Wilde—the way we were back in his room, for instance—maybe that would be worth it. I duck my head to hide the smile I can’t hold back.

Even with everything swirling around me, even with the war going on, I can honestly say I’m happy. I am really happy here. I guess life has a funny way of putting you where you need to be.

That happiness is chilled when the very air itself grows cold. A hush falls over the room, a ripple of dreadful anticipation. Now I wish more than ever Wilde was standing next to me. Or my father, sitting a few seats down the length of the table, where he plans on speaking on Daniel’s behalf if need be. After all, the war isn’t with the Silver Shadows alone. This involves all the packs. It’s a shame nobody else was close enough to get here in time.

My wolf stirs, my chest swelling, and I remember who I am. I’m not some weak, fragile thing. I am a wolf and a powerful one. I’ve already killed a handful of witches like the ones about to enter this hall. I don’t have anything to worry about.

The doors open on their own, and in glide the cloaked witches. The lights flicker, and the air grows colder while at the same time crackling with energy. I hear soft growls all around me, grunts, and muttered curses.

I count the witches as they enter. Eight in all, the tallest of whom walks in front of the others. She’s the one who takes a seat at the other end of the table while the others cluster around her rather than taking the empty chairs.

Moving in unison, they lower their hoods. A soft gasp rises up. They are all beautiful, but in a cold, almost scary sort of way. Their skin is chalky white, and their eyes glow brightly in shades of blue, green, and gold that seem to jump from their faces. There’s no doubt powerful energy radiates from them, seeming to strengthen whenever they lock eyes with any of the wolves lining the walls. Wolves who fall back half a step or find a reason to look at the floor.

The back of my neck tingles, and I look at the witch who’s sitting opposite where I’m standing. It’s like she’s drawing my attention to her, demanding it. Our eyes meet and that tingle turns to something more. Something much worse.

My eyes.

They’re burning. I raise my hands to them, and even though my vision blurs, I see the blood on my fingers and palms.

My eyes are bleeding.

I turn, half-blind, to the guard standing beside me. “Help me,” I beg before collapsing against him.

36

WILDE

“Help me.”

I turn the instant I hear Lili’s weak plea, my gaze landing on her in time to watch her collapse against one of the guards. He catches her, bewildered, and those standing nearby backup to make room for what is a gruesome, heart-stopping sight.

Her eyes are bleeding, the blood rolling down her cheeks like tears. Then her body begins to convulse. I swear I can feel whatever is rolling through her—or is that my wolf struggling to burst free?

“What have you done?” I roar, prepared to launch myself across the length of the table as more and more voices are raised in surprise and dismay.

“Be still.” The white-faced bitch at the end of the table stares at Lili, though she speaks to me. “All will be well.”

“Does that look well to you?” When I make a move to go to her, Dad grips my forearm, unyielding.

“Your place is by my side,” he growls. “She’s being cared for. Do not lose focus.”

To hell with focus. That’s my mate, and she could be dying. Blood streaks her fair cheeks and drips from her chin onto the floor. She lies on her side, whimpering softly, and someone standing nearby takes off their jacket, placing it under her head as a makeshift pillow.

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