“Monster?”Ronan echoed the word as if tasting it. A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. He let the steel poker fall. It struck stone with a sharp, final clatter. Then he stepped over Lydia’s body without a glance, as though she were nothing more than another piece of debris in a ruined hall.“My dear,” he said softly, “you can only imagine.”Pebbles ground beneath his boots. Around them the pack territory still screamed—war cries, dying howls, the wet sound of blades meeting flesh. Blood painted the streets in thick, glistening rivers under the firelight.“Don’t mistake me, little rabbit. I am no angel.”He dropped to one knee in front of her. The back of one finger traced a slow path down her cheek. Every place he touched ignited—pleasure and revulsion tangled so tightly she could no longer separate them. Only when his hand fell away did she realize tears were already sliding down her face.“She was my friend,” Kaela whispered, voice raw. “You killed my only friend.”“Friend?” Ronan
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