Elena’s POV
Glenda hit me with the force of a freight train.
We collided in the center of the room, her momentum driving us both backward. The air left my lungs in a painful gasp as my back slammed against the heavy table behind me. Bottles of perfume and jewelry boxes crashed to the floor, shattering around us in a spray of glass and gold.
I didn’t have the strength of a wolf, but I had the desperation of a protector and a warrior.
With how her strength increased compared to last time, I’d say she had already gone rogue.
As Glenda’s claws raked toward my face, I threw my weight to the side, causing her hand to bury itself in the wood of the vanity instead of my skull. Wood splinters flew. She shrieked in frustration, yanking her hand free, but that split second gave me the opening I needed.
I drove my knee up, hard, aiming for her stomach.
Just like how I usually used to knock Deacon in the gym during our friendly sparrings. It was messy and brutal. My knee connected with her ribs, earning a grunt of pain, but Glenda was fueled by adrenaline and whatever illicit substances she had ingested to enhance her strength. She barely stumbled.
“You think you can fight me? Maybe before but not right now,” she spat, her voice distorted by her shifting vocal cords. She backhanded me across the face.
The blow sent me spinning to the floor. My vision blurred, white spots dancing in front of my eyes. I tasted copper.
“I was trained to be a Luna!” Glenda screamed, stalking toward me where I lay on the rug. “I was born for this! You were just a charity case that got lucky!”
I shook my head, clearing the dizziness. I scrambled backward on my hands and heels, putting distance between us. My eyes darted to the closet door. It was still shut. Rafael was safe. For now.
“You were trained to be a trophy, Glenda,” I rasped, spitting blood onto the carpet. “That’s why you failed. You think being a Luna is about power. It’s about sacrifice.”
“Shut up!” She lunged again.
This time, she pinned me to the floor, straddling my waist. Her weight was crushing. Her hands, tipped with razor–sharp claws, wrapped around my throat.
“I’m going to squeeze the life out of you,” she hissed, leaning close. Her breath smelled acrid, chemical. Her eyes were voids of madness. “And when you’re dead, I’m going to tell Bryson and Deacon that you begged for him at the end. I’ll ruin your memory just like you ruined my life.”
My airway closed. Black edges crept into my vision.
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Chapter 11
+25 Bonus
Don’t panic.
Deacon’s voice echoed in my mind, a memory from a late–night training session weeks ago. If a wolf pins you, don’t try to overpower them. You will lose. Use their arrogance against them. Wait for the opening.
I clawed at her wrists, feigning total panic. I let my legs thrash uselessly. Glenda smiled, feeding off my struggle, her grip tightening. She was so focused on choking me, so focused on watching the light leave my eyes, that she didn’t notice my right hand sliding down to my thigh.
Under the tattered remains of my wedding dress, strapped securely to my leg, was a gift Deacon had insisted I wear today.
“Something blue,” he had joked when he strapped the blue leather sheath to my thigh this morning. “And something sharp. Just in case.”
My fingers closed around the hilt of the weapon. It wasn’t a sword. It was a tactical dagger, forged from pure, consecrated silver.
I stopped struggling.
Glenda frowned, confused by my sudden stillness. “Giving up already?”
“No,” I wheezed, my voice barely a squeak. “Checkmate.”
I drew the blade and drove it upward with every ounce of strength I had left.
I didn’t aim for her heart because I couldn’t reach it from this angle, so I aimed for the cluster of nerves and muscle in her shoulder, right where her neck met her collarbone.
The silver blade sank deep.
Glenda’s scream was unearthly. It wasn’t just the physical wound; silver burned werewolves like a branding iron. Smoke sizzled from the wound instantly.
She recoiled, releasing my throat to clutch at the burning metal in her shoulder.
I didn’t wait. I bucked my hips, throwing her off balance, and rolled out from under her. I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air, my throat burning as oxygen rushed back into my lungs.
Glenda stumbled back, ripping the knife out of her shoulder with a wet tearing sound. She dropped the bloodied silver blade to the floor, clutching the wound. The flesh around it was already turning black and blistering.
“You… you…” she gurgled, her eyes wide with shock.
“I told you,” I panted, backing up until I stood protectively in front of the closet door. “You can’t outwin me.
She looked at the knife on the floor, then at me. The madness in her eyes swirled with sudden fear. She had expected a victim. She had found a warrior.
2/3
Chapter 191
+25 Bonus
“I’ll kill you!” she shrieked, preparing to charge again, though her movements were slower now, favoring her left side.
“Try it,” I challenged, raising my fists in the stance Deacon had taught me. “Come on, Glenda. Let’s finish this.”
She snarled, crouching low, ready to spring.
But before she could move, the heavy double doors of the bedroom which I had deadbolted, exploded inward.
Wood splinters rained across the room as the doors were kicked off their hinges.
A massive, towering figure filled the doorway. He was covered in blood that wasn’t his, his shirt shredded, his chest heaving. His eyes were glowing with a gold light so intense it was blinding.
Deacon.
He didn’t look at me. He looked straight at Glenda.
And boy his stare was deadly. Eyes gleaming with a hint of gold. It was murderous and his wolf was just as furious as he was.
The growl that tore from his throat was so deep, so primal, that the windows in the bedroom rattled in their frames. It wasn’t a warning. It was a death sentence.
Glenda froze. For the first time all night, she looked dazed.
“You touched her,” Deacon said. His voice was terrifyingly quiet, devoid of all humanity. “You dared to
touch my wife.”
Glenda took a step back, hitting the balcony doors. She looked from Deacon to me, and then to the knife on the floor. She realized, with dawning horror, that she wasn’t the hunter anymore. She was the prey.
I lowered my hands, my knees suddenly shaking as the adrenaline crash hit me. But I didn’t fall. I stood tall, watching the woman who had caused me great pain and caused my pack’s massacre shrink away from the retribution she had earned.
“It’s over, Glenda,” I whispered.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
