3

Tricia

"You are hurting me!" I screamed, trying to pry Tristan's fingers off my arm.

The wood of the door splintered with a deafening crack behind him. Another heavy blow shook the stone floor beneath my feet. Someone, or rather something, was trying to tear the tower down to get inside.

Tristan didn't care. He shoved me backward until my spine hit the cold stone wall. He looked manic. His usually perfectly styled blonde hair was a mess, and his eyes were wild.

"I don't have time for your tears, Tricia," he spat, his face inches from mine. "Three years. I wasted three years playing house with a human. I slept in the same bed as you. I pretended to care about your pathetic little life. Do you think I did that for charity?"

My heart stopped. The air left my lungs.

I looked at the man I had loved since I was twenty. The man who had swept me off my feet when my father died and left me with nothing but debt and a leaky roof. I was just a naive girl back then. I thought Tristan was my savior. I thought the Moon Goddess had blessed me even without a wolf of my own.

"You... you never loved me?" I whispered.

"Love?" Tristan laughed, and it sounded like glass breaking. "I needed access to your father's archives. He was the Historian for the Council. He hid the key to the Shadow Vault before he died. He gave it to you."

"He gave me a locket!" I yelled back, my voice cracking. "A cheap, rusty locket that you made me sell to pay for your gambling debts in the first month of our marriage!"

Tristan froze. The color drained from his face.

"You sold it?" he whispered.

"You told me to!" I was crying now, hot, angry tears that burned my cheeks. "I scrubbed your floors, Tristan. I cooked your meals. I let your pack members call me a leech and a waste of space. I let you divorce me and move Charlotte into our bedroom before my side of the bed was even cold. And now you break into my prison to ask me about a locket you forced me to pawn?"

I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me. I was twenty four years old, but I felt like I had lived a hundred years of misery. I had no family. No money. No wolf. And the only two men in my life viewed me as either a pawn or a nuisance.

"You stupid, useless girl," Tristan growled. He raised his hand.

I flinched, waiting for the hit. It was a reflex born from the last year of our marriage.

But the blow never came.

The heavy oak door exploded inward.

Shards of wood flew across the room like shrapnel. Tristan tackled me to the ground, using my body to shield his own from the debris. I hit the floor hard, my head bouncing off the rug.

A low, guttural growl filled the room. It vibrated in my teeth.

I looked up, coughing through the dust.

Blake stood in the doorway.

He wasn't a wolf, but he wasn't entirely human either. His eyes were glowing a violent, radioactive silver. His canines were extended, sharp enough to tear through bone. He was shirtless, his chest heaving, and his skin was flushed with the heat of his shift.

He looked like death incarnate.

"Get off her," Blake said. His voice was a distorted rumble, layered with the sound of his wolf.

Tristan scrambled up, hauling me with him. He spun me around, pressing a silver dagger against my throat. I hadn't even seen him pull it out. The cold metal bit into the soft skin under my chin.

"Stay back!" Tristan yelled, his voice shaking. "I'll kill her, Blake! I swear to the Goddess, I'll bleed your precious mate dry right here on the rug!"

I couldn't breathe. I could smell Tristan's fear. It smelled like sour milk.

Blake didn't step back. He stepped forward. He walked over the broken remains of the door, his bare feet making no sound. He looked at the knife at my throat, and then he looked at me.

His eyes were void of any sympathy. There was no worry. No panic. Just cold, calculating rage.

"Do it," Blake said.

Tristan blinked. "What?"

"I said do it," Blake repeated. He stopped three feet away from us. "She is a human. She is weak. If she dies, the bond breaks, and I am free to find a real Luna. You think I want a mate who lets her ex-husband into her bedroom? You think I want damaged goods?"

My heart shattered.

I knew Blake was cruel. I knew he didn't want me. But hearing him say it, hearing him give Tristan permission to kill me just to be rid of the inconvenience... it hurt more than the knife.

"You're bluffing," Tristan stammered. "The bond would kill you if she dies."

"Try me," Blake challenged. He took another step. "Cut her throat, Tristan. Save me the trouble of rejecting her."

Tristan's hand wavered. He was confused. He expected Blake to beg, to negotiate. He didn't know how to handle a monster who didn't care.

In that split second of hesitation, Blake moved.

He was a blur of motion. One moment he was standing there, the next his hand was wrapped around Tristan's throat.

He lifted Tristan off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Tristan gagged, dropping the knife. It clattered to the floor, and I collapsed next to it, gasping for air.

"You made a mistake coming into my territory," Blake whispered to Tristan, who was clawing uselessly at Blake's forearm. "But your biggest mistake was thinking she matters enough to be a hostage."

Blake threw him.

Tristan flew across the room and smashed into the heavy wardrobe. Wood cracked, and Tristan slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Silence fell over the room.

I sat on the floor, rubbing my neck. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely feel my skin. I looked up at Blake, waiting for him to help me. Waiting for him to ask if I was okay.

Blake turned to me. The glow in his eyes faded, leaving behind a dark, endless abyss.

"Get up," he ordered.

I struggled to my feet, using the bed for support. "Thank you. I thought he was going to..."

"How did he get in?" Blake cut me off.

"I... I don't know," I stammered. "He just came in. He had a key."

Blake closed the distance between us in two long strides. He grabbed my face, his fingers digging into my jaw. He tilted my head back, sniffing my neck, right where Tristan's knife had been. Then he sniffed my hair.

"You smell like him," Blake sneered, releasing me with a shove. "You smell like his fear and his lust. Did you invite him in, Tricia? Was this a plan? A little reunion with your lover to take down the big bad Alpha?"

"No!" I cried, stepping back. "He was going to kill me! You heard him!"

"I heard a coward making threats," Blake said coldly. "And I see a woman who has been in my house for less than an hour and has already allowed an enemy into the most secure tower in the North."

"I didn't allow anything!" I yelled. "I am a victim here!"

"You are a liability!" Blake roared, the sound making the windows rattle. "And I am done playing nursemaid to a human who can't even keep a door locked."

He walked over to the unconscious Tristan and grabbed him by the leg, dragging him toward the door like a sack of trash.

"Rector!" Blake bellowed into the hallway.

The Beta appeared instantly, looking pale. "Alpha?"

"Take this trash to the dungeons," Blake said, tossing Tristan's leg toward him. "And then bring me the shackles."

"Shackles?" Rector asked, looking at me. "For the prisoner?"

Blake turned back to look at me. His gaze was heavy, pinning me to the spot.

"No," Blake said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "For the Luna."

"Blake, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face again. "I didn't do anything. I swear."

"You have ten seconds to get dressed," Blake said, ignoring my pleas. "Since you like opening doors for your ex-husband so much, I think the tower is too luxurious for you. You can sleep in the kennel with the omegas. Maybe living in the dirt will teach you some loyalty."

"I'm your mate!" I screamed. "How can you do this?"

Blake walked back to me. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear.

"That is the only reason you are still breathing," he whispered.

He grabbed my wrist and started dragging me toward the broken door. I stumbled, trying to keep up, my bare feet scraping against the stone.

As we passed the wardrobe where Tristan had hit, something caught my eye.

The impact had shattered the wood of the closet. Hidden inside the false back of the wardrobe, sitting on a small dusty shelf, was a small, rusted iron box.

And pulsing from inside the box was a faint, red light.

My father's locket.

Tristan hadn't pawned it. He had hidden it here. In Blake's house.

Before I could say anything, Blake yanked me into the hallway, and the secret was swallowed by the darkness of the room behind us.