The news spread: Lillian had killed Theodore's mother.The pack's warriors were enraged. They howled for revenge.The demand to execute Lillian grew louder by the hour.Theodore led the troops himself. In a small skirmish, he broke the Black Iron Pack's vanguard.A grieving army was unbeatable. Theodore had counted on it.In the forward command post, he stayed up days, hunched over the sand table, running the war again and again.Even I was tired just looking at the blood in his eyes.I asked him. Was any of this worth it?He said: yes.He needed to prove he hadn't changed. He was still the boy of fourteen.He loved me down to the bone. For me, he would go to war with the world.To hell with fated mates. To hell with the war. To hell with the world.He refused every option fate had tried to push on him. He only wanted me.I looked at his exhausted, stubborn eyes, and I remembered.The night we had just run from the orphanage, the two of us curled in an open field.Dawn came. He pulled
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