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CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

Sneering and growling, Carrington lay Maverick on the floor and charged toward Emma.

Liam, Morris, and Clyde tried to interfere, but she stopped them. “No, he's mine,” she echoed.

They nodded, transcending into fighting the others.

The battlefield erupted into chaos as the wolves clashed in a flurry of teeth and claws. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, punctuated by growls and snarls that reverberated through the night.

Emma's golden fur shimmered with a radiant intensity as she led the charge, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. Her movements were fluid and precise, each strike calculated and ruthless. She fought with a ferocity that surpassed anything she had shown before, her primal instincts awakened by the injustices she had endured.

She bit on Carrington, as many times as her teeth could dig in, without mercy. She wanted him to feel every dent of her fangs.

Beside her, Clyde's wolf, his dark fur glistening with a newfound vitality, moved with a leth
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