BloodBound Crown
Justice—brutal, absolute justice—had been served.
Around him, the chamber was silent except for the drip of blood and the whimpering of the slaves still locked in their cages. Every man who'd participated in the auction, every guard who'd touched Lyra, every slaver who'd profited from her pain—all dead. The walls were painted red with their blood, the floor slick with it.
*Good,* his wolf said. *As it should be.*
Kael turned back toward the platform, his shift already reversing, bones cracking back into human form. The berserker rage was fading, leaving behind exhaustion and the throbbing pain of a dozen minor wounds. The silver burns on his hands screamed. The cut on his ribs bled freely.