☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ It's tempting to go after Wade, to ignore his advice and rush in to help in the fight, but I choose not to. If anything happens, I don't want it to be my fault that there was a hitch in our plans. I can always plead innocent since I adhered to the rules I was given. Mikael—whom I can't wait to talk with—wouldn't have any right to chew me out for putting myself in danger. Pressing a hand to my forehead, I attempt to rub my headache away. Wade's confession about the Alpha of Guttenbrieg clangs in my head, asking that I address and contemplate it now that I have the time to do so. But I don't wish to. I don't want to further peel this issue's skin because he isn't here. Mikael should be present to defend himself against the accusing indexes pointed at him. I don't want to acknowledge that what Wade said is true. I don't want to hate my husband. I fear this will be the result if what has been revealed is the plain truth. I might not be capable of forgiving him fo
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "Nice kill, by the way." Absalon lowers his head at the wolf I killed. I roll my eyes internally. Never have I seen a worse faker. He acts as if he only recently noticed the carcass, even though he stepped on it to get to me. I wish I could kick him in the balls, but I can't bring my leg to budge. What an asshat! "Why the hell are you here!" "For you, my dear. I've already said before. I want you." Yuck, yuck! I want to chuck up the toast I had at his feet. "There, there." He wipes stray tears from my eyes. I can only move my eyeballs, but I can't blink. Hence, a sheet of water dripped out, signalling that my eyes were drying out, courtesy of the wind's recent breezy stroke. "Don't look so offended, Luna." I pass a hiss of air scathingly. Oh, please. How would he know? I can't even move a damn muscle in my upper face. "Fuck off." "Oh, feisty too. Just like your mother." It's not much surprise he knew my mother. She was a witch, after all. Of course, she mu
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ My head whips in the direction of the familiar voice. I'm in time to glimpse Wade racing for us at full wolf speed. He makes impact, but I only see a blur. Absalon's response is to snap his fingers, flinging his opponent aside like a toy with a spring of his magic. "No!" I scream as rage inhabits every cell in my being. I can't feel anything but the fury travelling in my system, pumping each ounce of blood and increasing my breathing rate. I draw fiery fumes into my chest; nothing can keep me from destroying Absalon. The sky darkens as my rage turns feral. My pulse screams in my ears as I harness my strength into dangerous magic. The wind whirls at my command, kicking up a tornado of sand and stones. I curl my fingers, and shards of tree barks come flying. I make a weapon of everything in my way, and with my dominant hand outstretched, I send them hurling at Absalon. They all obey, and I watch shock cross the sorcerer's face as the stormy gale rushes for him.
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ I can't stop thinking of her. Tonnar is crawling with rogues. I must fight and drive them out. Yet, I can't get my wife off my mind. She must be safe, I hope. She's in the hands of one who loves her; I know the Crestengalt will not let harm come to her. Despite his covetousness of her, I'm convinced that I did not make the mistake of letting her leave with him. If all goes well, they shall soon reach Guttenbrieg by dusk. Perhaps, I might be a tinge more at ease if a man I wholly trusted was with her, but it'd not been viable. I already sent Jerald on my honour to inform the pack of the anticipated looming danger from Cillian. While I've never hated a creature more than I do him, I've come to glean through experience that the odious things he says are rarely jokes, despite how incredulous they may sound to an untrained ear. He promised to make Saskia his and take back the pack. My response to that nonsense is he'll have the permit to do so over my rotting corpse
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ It takes a stretch longer than I'd prefer to wind down the road into the bold expanse of the estate. I swish up to the house, breaking the door into splinters by refusing to slow down. A clean sweep up to the first floor and basement confirms that she did not return to the abandoned residence for our stay. Her smell does not linger, and only faint traces of the Crestengalt heir can be found. The remnants of the shredded door swing back and forth, yet attached on its hinges. It creaks and shudders as I tear down the exit. My thundering feet send earth flinging and dead grass soaring in the air. The wind hurls scents of a battle down South of the estate. Rage motivates my ascent on the mixed terrain, but fear for her safety is all the fuel that strikes my essence. "By Selena..." I brush to an abrupt stop as the unbelievable view unfolds before me. Ruins and piles of rubbish from obliterated trees and level land infiltrate my peripheral view. The next hint that sp
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ A scowl overtakes my cast as I set eyes on the fair-headed man bent over a walking stick, not from age but for a ruse. "Missed the train home, Whelan?" The bitterness yet stored within seeps into my tone. "Whelan?" The old, heavy voice rumbles like a clap of thunder rolling down the beak of a mountain. Long ago, in a distant land bound by time, I'd been a lad afraid of its owner. "I imagined I was once Seanathair to you, Mikael. Ain't it so, Cillian?" Cillian pulls further out from the woods—left untouched and spared from Saskia's dismantling—at the query. I do not give the coward a chance to voice his opinion. "You mean nothing to me. I don't remember a grandfather. Nay, I recall a sadistic fiend who gloated in sacrificing others for his evil causes—his family included." As patronising as the word might ever entail, Whelan corrects, "Family means naught without loyalty. I attack not those under my wings. You must've understood that by now, Alpha of Guttenbrie
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ "What the...fucking...hell was that?" I scramble to rise, but my efforts are thwarted by a force field smashing my length to the ground. It all clicks in at once: magic. The weight on my spine, crushing my neck and torso to the ground, is of a mammoth's mass in thousands of tonnes. I snarl as the invisible load intensifies at my joints, breaking my bones. Whatever witch is responsible must be incredibly skillful. It's a hellish experience that might have had a more inexperienced version of myself centuries ago whimpering in pain. I've long learnt to endure worse. Warning bells wail in my head. It's evident Cillian and Whelan planned this from the genesis of our interaction. I'd been too blinded by my fury to see through their plan. Cillian hammers on this point with his utterance, "you were an idiot not to suspect the cause of our visit, Mikael." My hateful gaze pans upward, but it does not land on Cillian. Instead, Absalon's distasteful countenance is caught
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade is a damned liar. I should have known better than to trust him to tell me the truth about how he felt. Even more annoying is that he clearly fooled me with his charms. While I often harped on the fact that werewolves could make themselves more attractive to others through their supernatural magnetism, I'd forgotten the fact that, in specific, they could conceal defects about themselves. In my state of despair, I'd become easily subject to his prowess. He'd gotten the chance to disguise the true extent of his injuries. If I say I'm not entirely beyond pissed off, then I'd be telling a lie—something those I cherish as friends and family seem adept at doing when I'm involved. "You don't need to do this." Wade coughs, a shadow of himself, having drained up to half the quota of blood in his body. I eye him in irritation. Is there any time he doesn't annoy me like it's a hobby of his? "I'll do what I want, Wade. Kindly shut the fuck up while I do." I want to