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“Money, and a new position in the pack after they took over.” This comes out on a whimper; one his friend mimics. Cecil is lost to his animal. Moved by self-preservation and hunger, his claws still reaching for the meat just a few feet away. “All they asked us to do was take a break at a certain time. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” As if they didn’t help kill an innocent woman.
“Yes, my King.”
“Who contacted you?” I hiss out through clenching teeth, reaching for the hilt and pulling out the knife in one quick tug. “Names, Jack. All of them.”
No sooner has the last word slipped through my lips than Jack and Cecil begin to thrash. They’re foaming at the mouth, eyes pure black now and their expressions showing torture.
I let it happen.
Let them feel the sting of Bartolo’s power with a bored expression on my face.
Taking a seat, I relax back and watch. Wait.
And the longer he manipulates them, the weaker he becomes. The more their cries grow in volume; I find myself enjoying the horror-filled sound.
Justice comes in many forms, and this is one of them.
Bartolo doesn’t stop, and soon enough both men pass out from the pain. His magic is dark, an aura that surrounds him—I can make out each individual tendril as it strikes the wolves strapped to a chair like a whip. Small cuts appear across their chest and arms, small rivulets of bright red flow from each one, and still, I don’t intervene.
This is the price of betrayal. The beginning.
As much as it hurts my heart to hurt one of my own, I can’t forgive. Won’t.
Cecil and Jack will serve two years of torture inside separate cells. Each day, a new serving of fresh meat will be placed within their room while they’re chained, the silver preventing them from shifting, and wither away slowly. They’ll be kept barely alive by bread and water until they’re released and then banished from the pack.
I should kill them, but the plea of their kin saved them. This is the only mercy I can show.
A quick flick of my wrist and the bloodied knife is in the warlock’s shoulder. Deep. “Motherfuck,” he cries out, and the enchantment breaks. Now what comes out of his mouth is a loud wail, expletives, and the screeching of his chair against the floor as he tries to move.
Stand. Shift. Pull the blade out but the chain keeps him in place.
So, I help him.
Standing from my seat, I make my way around and release one damaged hand. “Eat.”
“You’re going to pay for this. Lose everyone you love.”
“You mean like my mate?” He grows pallid, and it’s not from injuries or blood loss. This is more. Different. “Enlighten me, Bartolo. Why did it take you a year to return? Why are you here?”
“I might’ve waited too long. Plans had to be set in motion, but she is a risk.”
“A risk for me or you? Those pulling your strings?”
“You’ll never know. I vow it.”
“Sure about that?”
“Tell me this…” Bartolo tries to right himself and grimaces, eyeing the blade and then me “…did you know that the Moore family owns land not far from here? That all this time, you could’ve found me. Killed my queen, but didn’t.” My wolf rises at the challenge, the taunt, and my claws rip through my nail beds. Muscles bulging and chest rising with deep breaths, I don’t answer but keep my glare on the sallow man. “The Wiccan royals are corrupt, King Evergreen. If anyone should fear Isabella, it’s you. She’s going to—”
He doesn’t get to finish.
I react, and within seconds his face is smashed into the English breakfast plate. Once, twice…five times; I slam his head into the mess and table, breaking more than the porcelain. A split in the wood appears and the mess spreads, mixing with the dark life’s essence dripping from his wounds.
Bartolo’s eyes roll back and his front teeth crack, breaking and cutting his lips.
My nails dig into his scalp, tearing through the skin, but Cain’s voice through the mind link stops me.
