Chapter 7 · The Traitor

"Step away from the wolf, Rena."

Marcus's voice is steady. No anger. That's worse. When he's angry he yells. When he's calm he's already decided who dies.

The rifle's pointed at my chest. Twenty feet out, hunters fanned behind him in a loose arc. Silver bullets—I can smell the metal from here, sharp and wrong, like licking a battery. One round'll rip through bone, burn the tissue black, stop my heart before I hit the ground.

Cain's hand tightens on my arm.

"I said step away." Marcus tilts his head. The barrel doesn't waver. "Or I put you down with the rest of them."

I don't move.

Behind me the pack's frozen. Ella's somewhere in the dark with the kids. The other wolves are scattered, half-shifted, waiting for Cain's signal. They'll fight if he tells them to.

They'll die if he tells them to.

"She's not going anywhere." Cain's voice comes out low, almost lazy. Like we're not thirty seconds from a massacre. "You heard what I said. She's mine."

Marcus laughs.

It's not a nice sound.

"Yours." He lowers the rifle an inch. I can see his face now—