The Lycan King’s Playtoy
Dane's gray eyes met mine, raw with guilt, his hands steadying me, but I saw the cost in him, the brother he'd killed for me, the enemy he'd ended.
The battlefield churned under Ironclaw Lycans overpowering Silvermoon's last remnants, their screams distant dirges. The knees buckled under me, beating with exhaustion, and the awe of the headache stung as a drum, while the fire of heat had died almost completely.
I survived on the few precious seconds of closing words with Dane—whispers lost within the chaos,
"Why?"