Fated to the Twin Alphas
Then, without a word, he bent down, lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing, and turned toward the west wing.
But just before we crossed the threshold, a sound sliced through the silence—low, feral. A growl.
He froze. Slowly, he turned.
Daphne Wolf was standing, barely—but her eyes burned with rage, and her mouth curled into a snarl. She lunged.
I didn’t see his face—only the flash of silver claws, the sickening crunch of skull crushing, and the silence that followed.
“You seem not to know your place.”