Chapter 3

Zion turned his attention back toward the pack, his gaze sweeping over them with open contempt. Their expressions were a mixture of fear, resentment, and something darker relief that the attention was no longer on them.

They hated the fact they had ever taken her in.

“None of them care about you,” Zion said calmly, the words sharp and deliberate as he reached down and hauled Maya to her feet.

The truth of it struck harder than any blow. Maya didn’t argue. She didn’t deny it. The pack wouldn’t meet her eyes, and that silence spoke louder than any accusation.

Zion took a moment to really look at her.

Even without scent, he would have known she wasn’t full-blood. Her body betrayed her lineage in ways no wolf could hide. Full-blooded females were built lean and lithe, all sharp muscle and predatory grace. Maya was something else entirely lush, soft where wolves were hard, undeniably feminine in a way that pulled his attention without effort.

Her breasts were full and heavy, her hips wide, her stomach gently rounded, thighs thick with strength rather than speed. She was built for warmth, for survival, for comfort human traits that lingered despite the wolf inside her. Zion’s gaze lingered longer than it should have, curiosity stirring alongside something far more dangerous.

He wondered, briefly and unapologetically, what she would look like without the chains.

Zion didn’t keep unmated females in his pack. It wasn’t worth the trouble. Territorial instincts made things messy, and messiness led to weakness. He preferred his pack disciplined, focused, loyal. Desire complicated that.

The only women permitted among his wolves were his blood his mother, his sisters and the mates of his men. They were protected, respected, and untouchable. Anything else invited chaos.

And yet Maya stood in front of him, disrupting that carefully maintained order without even trying.

“I don’t care what they think,” Maya said, her voice shaking but resolute. “Do not hurt Juniper. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s too young to understand any of this.”

Zion’s fingers curled around her throat not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to remind her who controlled the moment. He stepped closer, his body pressing into hers, his height and strength enveloping her completely.

Her breath hitched.

He felt it.

Her fear. Her courage. Her resolve.

Her body fit against his in a way that sparked a dangerous thought one he hadn’t anticipated. Zion didn’t miss the way she tensed, didn’t miss the way her pulse fluttered beneath his hand.

Across the clearing, Milo stood holding Juniper securely. The girl was perfectly still, frozen by terror, waiting for whatever decision Zion would make. Milo wasn’t harming her his grip was firm but controlled. Zion had chosen his men well.

“If I spare her,” Zion said slowly, testing the idea aloud, “what will you give me?”

Maya swallowed.

“What do you want?”

She struggled against him, instinctively trying to pull away. Zion tightened his hold, not out of cruelty, but because he found the resistance… intoxicating. There was fire in her, buried beneath fear and years of being overlooked.

He imagined her defiant in other ways and forced the thought away.

For now.

His hand slid down her side not crude, not hurried pausing at the curve of her waist. She stiffened at the touch, torn between fear and something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“What do I want?” he echoed, lifting his gaze to the pack.

They watched with thinly veiled hostility. Not one of them stepped forward. Not one spoke her name.

None of them would miss her.

Juniper didn’t deserve death for the sins of the pack. Zion knew that. Justice wasn’t blind slaughter it was precise. He was many things, but he wasn’t mindless.

“Look at them, Maya,” he said softly.

He spoke her name like it mattered. Like it belonged on his tongue.

She flinched at the sound.

“They would rather see you dead than lift a finger to help you.”

Her breath broke on a quiet gasp. Zion wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her upright as her knees threatened to give out.

“Juniper is innocent,” Maya whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please.”

He looked down at her properly then. She was smaller than him, softer, breakable in ways wolves rarely were. Her pack had let her run with them, but they had never accepted her. Never protected her.

Zion felt his disgust return, hot and sharp.

His pack would not treat her this way.

His wolves protected their own. They stood together. His men respected the women under his protection because Zion demanded it and because he led by example. Loyalty wasn’t demanded; it was earned.

“The question is,” Zion murmured, “what wouldn’t you do to save her?”

Maya stiffened in his arms.

Her scent shifted fear was still there, but something else bloomed beneath it. Desire. Confusion. A pull she didn’t understand and didn’t want.

Zion caught it immediately.

He turned her to face him, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“What do you want?” Maya asked, voice breaking.

His answer came without hesitation.

“I will spare the girl,” Zion said evenly, “if you agree to come with me for one month. Until the next full moon.”

Her eyes widened.

“One month?” she repeated.

“You will be under my protection,” he continued. “You will stay where I can see you. Where no one can touch you without my permission.”

His hand rested at her hip possessive, not obscene.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I have obligations.”

Zion gave Milo a sharp look.

Milo tightened his grip on Juniper not hurting her, but enough to make the danger clear. The girl cried out in fear.

Maya broke.

“Stop please. I’ll do something,” she cried. “I agree.”

Her voice carried across the clearing.

Zion studied her face carefully.

“You understand what you’re agreeing to?” he asked. “You’ll belong to me for that time.”

“Yes,” she said, breathless. “I’ll do it.”

He nodded once, satisfied.

“Milo,” Zion said, “do you have the girl secure?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Bind them together. We’ll take them with us.”

He turned toward the pack, rage settling into something colder and far more lethal.

“Wait,” Maya said, panic flooding her voice. “What are you doing?”

“You asked me to spare Juniper,” Zion replied without turning. “And I will. You never asked me to spare the rest.”

Her heart sank.

“They’re going to die.”

Milo wrapped a silver chain around Maya and Juniper, keeping them secure but separate from the slaughter about to unfold. Steam rose from his hands as the metal burned his skin. He didn’t complain.

“No,” Maya pleaded. “Please. Spare them too.”

Zion shook his head once.

“No, sweetheart. Not even you could buy that mercy.”

Juniper was tied safely to a post, far from the coming violence. She would live. Maya had made sure of that.

Zion didn’t break his word.

He turned away and signaled his men. The silver chains were removed from the remaining pack members. Panic erupted as they shifted or fled, some already running in human form.

Zion needed to burn off the fury coursing through him.

He counted slowly, giving his enemies a false hope.

Then he shifted.

His howl split the night, echoing beneath the moon as he gave chase.

The forest would remember this night.

And Maya, bound and watching, knew her life had just been claimed by something far more dangerous than death.