The Lycan King's Defiant Mate
And then the maw dipped towards me again, teeth bared and shiny and tinged with my parents’ red.
“Stop–,” a snarl cut through the room like a blade. Low, sharp, gutting. “Stand down. Now.”
Somehow, I already knew who it was before I dared to look.
Zavan. The Lycan King himself. He stepped toward me, walking through the horror as though it were nothing. Like an uncaring god, unmoved by the carnage.
Past Papa. Past Mama. Past our Pack. Stepping over all the red, like a prophet upon water.