Chapter 11 · Blood on the Council Floor

The screen goes black.

I'm staring at static when Darius grabs my arm and yanks me toward the stairs. His hand is slick with blood from the silver bullet wound and I can smell it—sharp, metallic, wrong.

"We're leaving," he says.

"Like hell we are." I twist out of his grip. "My mom's in that place. The real one. We just saw her."

"And Vivienne wants you to walk right into it." His eyes are still gold, pupils blown wide. The wolf is close to the surface and I can see it trying to claw through. "That feed was live. She knows we're here. She's been watching this whole time."

Downstairs, the hunters are still on their knees. I can feel them straining against the command I gave, their muscles shaking with the effort. One of them is bleeding from his nose.

I did that.

I made six armed men kneel with two words.

"What the hell am I?" My voice cracks on the last word.

Darius doesn't answer. He's looking at the monitors again, at the empty chair downstairs where the decoy was sitting five minutes ago.