The Alpha’s Rejected Human Luna
She’s pale, lips bloodless, sweat beading at her hairline.
“Stop,” I hear myself say. It comes out more growl than word.
No one stops.
The witches’ chant climbs, frantic now, hungry. The band of light around her chest brightens, searing. Her body bows, her shoulders yanked back by nothing.
Her mouth opens in a soundless scream.
Jax takes a step forward from the visiting Alphas’ cluster, face gone hard. Two of his lieutenants grab his arms, murmuring caution. He shakes them off once, twice, but stays where he is—for now.