All Chapters of Resisting the Beta: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Understanding Phoebe’s wolf overpowering her senses made sense in theory. Having to physically witness her slamming a blade into someone’s chest will be hard to shake off. Naively, my worst fears had been her seducing King Heath. I never thought I would see her grinning, covered in blood, crossbow aimed my way. She’s the same girl yet completely different. Down to the bigger hairstyle, the way she stands in the carriage, legs astride in her human-style gown, smirking like a pirate captain. There are just enough seconds to recognise that she stands tall, proud, and ready to murder me because her wolf is that confident and self-assured. Something my Phoebe was never allowed to be. Except none of that really matters because her chocolate eyes suddenly turned wide and vacant. The crossbow fired over my head before Phoebe began clutching at her chest. Falling from the carriage, she lay in a crumpled heap on the grass. Forgetting everything else, I sprint. “PHOEBE! Phoebe, no!”

It's over. I think, anyway. I’ve never been so tired in my life. Did a convoy of trucks steamroll over me during Genevieve’s extraction? By the end, it felt like Huli was trying to take me with her. The sickly green gunge plunged me into a weirdly lucid dream. I stood alone on an island, fighting to rebuild a stone wall being bashed by white, foaming waves. In the distance, away from the shore, I could see a thundercloud. A miserable, dark, coldness hovering over the ocean. That dark core was whipping up the waves and sending them towards my crumbling, grey-brick defences. My only defence. Chunk flew off, forcing me to sprint up and down the painful, shingle beach to find replacement rocks. Fighting to keep together. I knew, even though Huli said nothing and no instructions were provided. I knew that to give in and allow that wall to break was to give in completely and pay with my life. But against the dark, foreboding thundercloud of Hulil’s hatred, I could feel the sun

Getting up for a glass of water, I padded over to the door handle, the dark blue carpet like walking on clouds. Only to hear a sleepy. “Phoebe?” coming out of the darkness. “Did you say this needed to stay locked?” I swear he must still have some wolf remaining inside him. The speed at which his long, powerful limbs rolled off the bed made me jump. Striding with intent towards me in the darkness left me with goosebumps. Taking my hand from the door handle, I found myself staring into his ice blue eyes, my wrists pinned above my head, and my stomach twisting with a whole new surge of need. “Locked,” he confirmed. “Back to bed, Sugar.” Instead, I tug against him, just a little. A teasing, bratty little gesture to try and send him feral. He holds me a little tighter, but I know that means he loves it. He wants me confident enough to rile him up. So, I gently nudge my hip against the handle instead. I get a little yank into his full, possessive hold in exchange. “Are you not

We’re bundled into a windowless side room by the weapon-pointing guards. Of course, every wall is dark blue. I’m getting so fucking sick of that colour now. How has it swung from Phoebe and I walking out of here to gambling our lives in a bout against the human king? She’s wrapped her arms around my waist, whilst I stroke her still burning-red cheek and hold her close. I lose, Phoebe and I are dead. If I win, Heath's people will murder us. There is no point in hoping on a magic saviour from Shadowlands or White Forest. Nikolai made it clear he would see it on the other side. Except we might not get there now. “Fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “That didn’t go to plan. I didn’t realise he had that side to him…” My head is filled with ideas. Do I get Phoebe to make a run for it? At least if she lives…but crossing over the border, what happens when Shadowlands find her? Silently I squeeze her closer at the thought of her being alone again. Looking around the room there are

Our manner-mannered hostage interrupted Sawyers brooding. “Check the glove box Miss, think you’re going to need it.” I shriek at a set of wolfsbane syringes and dart guns. I dare not even touch them. Feared by all shifters and only used by the worst traitors. “Kills a mutt but doesn’t half bring a man to his knees too.” “We're not mutts,” Sawyer growls before he takes the gun and l oads it. There is a moment of tension that seizes our small truck. “Thank you,” passing the silver goblet into his still-tied hands. “I’ll cut you free when we get who we are looking for.” “You’ll want the blade in the side door then,” he grunts. Almost annoyed he’s having to prepare us out of his own goods. Evening beckons the time we arrive. Enchor prison is well outside the town, looking out over the foaming sea, doubling as a lighthouse from its mossy, clifftop location. We quietly watch the man in the tower preparing the beam. The fast-paced wind resembles the screams of terrified women. Thi