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How I recognize his name, I’m unsure, other than maybe my mind has started filling in the blanks from the memories of before I forgot. Perhaps I’ve met this Slate before, and deep down, under the veil covering my memories, I knew who he was when he assaulted me. After all, he seemed to know me that day in the alley. He knew my real name is Elora.
“Those are some big words for someone who’s outnumbered,” Slate mocks, cackling laughter echoing around him. “Even for the infamous Rune.”
Infamous Rune?I make a mental note to ask Rune about that later.
If there is a later.
No, there’s going to be. Stop thinking about that, Lake!
“You’re going to regret this, Slate,” Rune replies evenly. “Not just this, but what you did to her.”
“So, Elora told you, huh?” His elation makes my gut twist with knots. “Good. I’m glad. I hope it completely destroys Jules.”
Rune laughs darkly. “You think this is going to destroy him? The only thing it’s going to do is destroy you. Jules isn’t going to let you live after what you did. He’ll rip you apart, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left. You’re an idiot to think otherwise.”
“Jules doesn’t have the balls to kill me,” Slate sneers. “He’s always been a coward in that sense.”
“That’s because he’s never had a good reason to kill,” Rune tells him. “You gave him one by touching her.”
“I didn’t just touch her,” Slate says in a tone that makes me shudder and want to puke all over the floor. “I fucked her long and hard. She liked it, too. Screamed the entire time.”
A violent growl explodes from my chest as memories sear my mind. Slate and the other werewolf pinning me down. Clawing me. Bruising me. Beating me. Breaking me. And smiling as he did it while I cried.
Legend was right. He took something from me that day. From me and Jules.
A forceful rage storms through me as I open the door. The light stings my eyes as I step out of the darkness, my vision brighter, bolder, as if I’m suddenly seeing through a different pair of eyes. My gaze drops to my hands where sharp claws have replaced my fingernails. I’m not sure why, and I don’t really fucking care right now. All I care about is one thing.
Making him pay.
I grip the fire poker as I storm out of the closet.
Four werewolves dressed in black crowd the room. I pay no attention to three of them, my gaze locked on the tall, bulkier werewolf with shaggy blond hair. And just my luck, he’s standing right in front of the closet with his back to me.
Snarling, I swing back the fire poker and spear the end through the back of Slate’s thigh. He howls in pain as he collapses to the ground face first, clutching his leg.
The other werewolves reel toward me, teeth bared.
Then, all hell breaks loose.
The bedroom door flies open and figures barrel into the room. I can’t see their faces, too consumed by rage, wanting to break the werewolf bleeding at my feet.
“I didn’t like it!” I scream as I kick Slate in the face, making his jaw snap and blood spew from his lip, as if I’ve somehow become strong. “And you know I didn’t! You know I fucking hated it!” I kick him in the face repeatedly.
Crashes, growls, and snarls suddenly become background noise, but one thing takes center stage. Hurting Slate. Taking back some of the fear he put into me.
“I fucking hate you! And I hope you suffer for the rest of your miserable life!” My vision explodes with vivid colors as I scream at the top of my lungs.
I hear the snapping of bones, and pain splinters through my body as I continue bashing my foot into Slate’s face.
“Lake.” Strong arms wrap around me, the intoxicating aroma of moonlight and violets chinking through my wrath.
Jules is here. Jules is here. Jules.
He holds my back against his chest, his lips grazing my ear. “I understand you’re angry—and you deserve to be—but if you don’t calm down, you’re going to shift. And without any lessons, you might not be able to shift back.”
My head bobbles back against his chest as I breathe in and out. In and out. In and out. Gradually, my vision dims to normal, my surroundings coming into focus, the pain subsiding from my body.
Once my vision returns, I notice the room is now occupied with at least half a dozen of Jules’ guards, all with their swords and knives aimed at Slate’s friends. Rune is standing in front of me, and Legend and Shade are by his side. Legend has his fangs out, and Shade has a few droplets of crimson on his forehead. And Slate is incapacitated at my feet.
