Maisie

I felt it.

Searing pain exploded across my back as if the ash had hit me too, the bond carried every ounce of his hurt straight into me.

Soren sucked in a pained breath through his teeth and his forehead fell against mine as his shoulder—his burning shoulder—curved inward. "Seriously, Adams. We only let you out of our sight for five seconds. You are," another pained grunt. "—a walking hazard."

I stared at Soren’s face above mine. My head went very quiet. I looked at Cole. At his green eyes wide with horror as he stared at Soren’s back. At his trembling hands as the Lycans closed in on him.

Reid and Tucker and a few other faces blurred in my vision as they formed a protective line around him. On one hand, there were the wolves. On the other hand, there were Lycans.

This was it. The thing that started wars that lasted for centuries. That tipping point in the scale.

It wasn’t Mercer that tipped things over the edge. It wasn’t Jericho. Or Quinlan.

I moved.

Rage was often described as a brief moment of insanity. But I didn’t feel insane. The truth is, I’d never thought as clearly as I did in that moment. I had one aim. One objective.

I was going to kill Cole. He’d touched something that belonged to me. Everything went red. Everything else was registered as a body of warmth and my Lycan tunnel visioned on a single target. And went for it.

One moment I was being shielded into the wall, and the next, I was breaking past that line. That flimsy line.

There were familiar faces I had grown up with in the pack. Faces from high school. There was a teacher. Maybe three.

Bodies, my Lycan thought. Bodies.

My fist swung and someone cried out. Reid. And I broke something. Broke someone’s arm. Everything seemed breakable. Bloodlust wrapped around my throat like a vice.

Tucker was grabbing Cole and pushing him back. He was too slow.

Tucker had one single moment of fear stricken on his face, before the back of my hand slammed across his cheek and he went flying out of my way.

And then, there was Cole.

"I-I didn’t fucking know it would do that," he said, body trembling. Through that merciless, unyielding rage, it sounded like he was speaking from a place so far away. I’d already decided he was a dead man.

My fingers caught his collar as he tried to shuffle back, and then, I was on him.

I thought I should snap his neck. Rip his head off. Rip out his heart. But it was too quick. The pain I felt intimately like mine was burning inside me and I needed him to feel every ounce of it.

No one touched what was mine. No one hurt them. Only I had the right to do that.

Cole thrashed under me, trying to throw me off him. He grabbed my shoulder. I took that arm and snapped it. He roared, bucking his hip, rolling to the left. I punched him in the face. He jammed his knee up. I punched him in the face again. Blood splattered from his shattered nose and busted lip.

Cole flipped us. I gripped his stupid blonde hair and flung him off me. He crashed into the wall and I was instantly there, picking him off the floor, and I could hear his hammering heart. Claws burst out from under my nails to tear it out.

An arm wrapped around my waist. Another caught my wrist gently. I pushed back, but he didn’t let go. "It’s okay," the male voice said. "Let him go, malyshka. You are not a murderer."

Jericho.

His voice was calm and steady, teasing my ear. It was mildly distracting. I ignored him, wrestling for control.

"Blood sticks," he murmured against my neck, voice low enough that only I could hear. "Once you cross that line, it never washes off. He’s not worth becoming someone you’ll hate looking at in the mirror."

I struggled against him, still seeing red, still wanting to tear Cole apart.

But Jericho didn’t let go. Slowly, the red receded. My fingers loosened and Cole fell, nursing his broken arm, eyes blazing with that hate as he scrambled away.

Tucker was on the ground nearby, clutching a clearly broken arm, staring at me in horror. Reid was leaning against the lockers, blood trickling from his mouth, looking at me like I was something abominable.

My stomach dropped.

Cole spat out a mouthful of blood. "Crazy bitch."

A snarl climbed up my throat and I started to lunge for him again when I felt a new presence in the hallway.

Not one. Three. Heavy and dominant, not bothering at all to put a damper on themselves and all that power. One in particular stretches around me in an almost familiar yet hostile manner, and Jericho stiffened, shoving me back so fast, I slammed into someone else’s chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Quinlan snarled. I couldn’t see anything past their tall shoulders and the wall they had formed around me.

And when the voice rolled through the hall way, rough like the jagged edges of rocks, I stiffened.

"What does it look like, cupcake? We go here."

I knew that voice.

Soft footfalls stopped and I saw them.

Moon-white hair with red streaks. Intense blue eyes like mine. Seven feet tall. The mien of a savage beast. Unhinged expression. I could never forget that face.

Kisten Hunt was standing in the hallway of Greymoor, in a jacket too tight to fit his body.

My breath caught as his gaze landed on me and focused sharply. But it hadn’t been Kisten who spoke.

My gaze shifted to the man who stood beside him. Blue-black hair. Sterling grey eyes. And my lips parted.

I knew it was him. Somehow, I just did.

It was the Lycan from last night.

Tall and broad-shouldered. A tight black t-shirt stretched across his powerful chest, the fabric straining against hard muscle. He was covered in tattoos. Every visible inch of his arm and neck, disappearing into the collar of his t-shirt. Multiple silver piercings glinted along one ear, catching the light every time he moved. Part of his hair was shaved close on the sides, while the longer top fell messily over one side of his face.

A scar ran down his left eye. Any closer and it would have gouged out his eyes.

He looked mean. He breathed mean. And he spoke mean.

"Costa Ridge is all the way on the other side of the city, and last I checked, Ashbourne is my city," Soren said, voice heated, and you wouldn’t have known he was hurt if you weren’t staring at his ruined back. Or his extremely pale complexion.

The third man was an uncanny replica of Kisten. Though, he had blonder hair and leaner muscles, like an athlete. I knew instantly that they were blood brothers.

My other half-brother. Oh goddess. It had never occurred to me before that I might’ve had other siblings, apart from Lana and Kisten.

The third glanced over at Cole, and then back at Soren. Then he smiled. It was just as unhinged as Kisten’s expression. "Feeling alright, Black? I smell fucking barbecue." Then he pouted. "We were hoping he’d get yours or little Quinn’s pretty face burned off, but I guess points go for effort."

My mouth dried. The speculations on what could kill a Lycan were just as many as the speculations on where to get it. That Cole could get his hands on that particular kind of ash made a lot more sense if someone had simply given it to him.

Who better than the Hunts?

Cole stumbled backward until he was practically hiding behind them. My stomach twisted. Had he actually gone to them? Formed some kind of desperate alliance out of spite because the Lycans had taken me from him?

"I’m going to enjoy breaking you to fucking pieces," Jericho snarled.

Kisten’s eyes narrowed. ""Did you know," he said conversationally, "this school was built to be a home for all races? Humans, wolves, Lycans... even the exiled. That also means these grounds are neutral territory." His smile sharpened. "No blood can be spilled here from what I heard upon enrollment. Not without consequences."

From the disquiet that rippled through the bond, I guessed Kisten was right. His eyes lowered and found mine again, crinkling. "You look beautiful. More so than I thought possible. I never would’ve believed the thought of fucking a mated woman could make me this hard."

I shuddered with disgust as the scent of his arousal clouded the air and his eyes heated.

Mercer’s answering snarl rumbled off the walls.

Kisten chuckled humorlessly and turned around, but not before throwing over his shoulder, "See you around, princess."

The third glances down at me with distaste and buggers off.

The grey-eyed one, however, lingered. He studied me like I was some specimen he could cut into and see what I was made of.

"Hello again, traitor," he murmured. "I believe you have something of mine. I’ll come for it soon."

The words were filled with filthy promise and I imagined any other woman might have found it hot, but it made me recoil.

Noting my reaction he laughed, grey eyes jerking up to meet my mates’. "Nice choice, by the way. I would’ve chosen her too. She’s got much better tits than Tessa. I saw them last night. Along with her little cunt." At their startled expressions, he grinned, "She didn’t tell you? It was real up close and personal."

My stomach dropped. Heat rushed to my face.

"Shut your damned mouth, Bastian, or I’ll do it for you," Mercer said with pure violence.

Grey eyes cocked his head. "You think I’m lying? She’s got a dimpled ass cheek, hasn’t she? The left one, was it?"

Quinlan’s usual quiet was replaced with cold fury.

Before anyone could lunge at him, the Head Mistress’s voice cut through the hallway, hard and stern as steel. "Enough!" she snapped, voice cutting through the noise. "If you boys want to kill each other, take it off my school grounds! It is eight o’clock in the morning, for Goddess’ sake! I will not have my establishment destroyed before first period!"

Bastian adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder and winked at me, earning another growl from Jericho, before walking off.

The last thing I heard before Soren grabbed my wrist hard enough to wrench it out of my arm and yanked me forward toward the entrance was Head Mistress Atlas’s hard voice. "Hayes, in my office. Now."

"Soren," I said as he pulled harder toward the entrance.

His movements were stiff and agitated. His skin was paler and I saw that his movements were equal parts pained and vexed. His violet eyes were lit with anger as he said, "Clearly, we need to have a long, nice conversation on the consequences of keeping secrets, Adams."