Maisie

Soren didn’t even react. He just laid there and took it with a startled expression, which only made me angrier. I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. I wanted him to feel it. I wanted to cut his heart out and feed it to him.

I was seeing red.

My fist had only just risen to strike him when Quinlan yanked me off Soren successfully.

I couldn’t see or hear anything past the anger and the roaring in my head. The last few months flashed behind my eyes like a broken reel. Every harsh word, every cold shoulder, every humiliation.

The memories dragged down my spine like knives when I twisted and saw Quinlan.

The girls they brought home. The moans that bled through the walls at night. Lana’s hand sliding up Jericho’s thigh. The pool. Tessa pressed against the glass while Mercer fucked her, knowing I could see. The bruises and love bites Soren left on her skin.

They had known. All along, they had known I was theirs. They had known all of it would hurt me, even if I didn’t understand it. And they still chose to hurt me.

I punched Quinlan. The impact jolted up my arm, but I felt nothing. No pain. Only rage.

Someone—Mercer—grabbed my waist from behind, trying to pull me back. I twisted like a feral cat and elbowed him hard in the ribs, snarling.

"Adams, you’ll hurt yourself—"

"Fuck off and die," I spat and kneed him in the groin.

Chaos erupted.

I was moving without thinking, grabbing anything within reach and hurling it. The lamp. Another vase. Glass shattered across the floor and walls. And I was screaming, flinging out words that came from deep inside, it broke my heart. It felt like screaming was the only way to get the ache out. if I didn’t, I would never be fine again.

Nothing would ever be fine again.

I lunged for Soren again, nails raking down his arm. Someone else grabbed my wrist. I spun and slapped them, hard.

Hands were everywhere now, trying to contain me, but I was beyond reason. I kicked, thrashed, and screamed until my throat felt raw.

"I hate you! I hate every one of you!"

And then, the world tilted violently.

One moment I was clawing at someone’s chest, the next I was tackled to the ground.

Dark amber eyes latched onto mine as Jericho’s weight came down on me, heavy, solid, and unrelenting. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand while his body pressed me into the Persian rug.

He was careful, but his body above mine weighed like a ton of bricks, and the distant, rational part of me noted my hand print on his cheek.

"Breathe," he growled against my ear, voice commanding. "Breathe."

I thrashed beneath him, chest heaving, still trying to fight even though I had nothing left.

"I can’t—" I choked out, sobbing. "I can’t breathe—I hate you—I hate—"

"Shh." His forehead pressed against mine, voice rough but steady. "In. Out. Breathe, malyshka. Just breathe."

My body betrayed me and obeyed him. The fight drained out in violent, shaking sobs as the haze began to crack. "Let... me go," I whispered, sniffling.

Jericho pulled away from me and I curled into myself by the bed’s edge. I suddenly felt so tired.

When Quinlan crouched low and took my ankle, I didn’t have it in me to yell at him.

There was a piece of glass sticking out my left foot and he gently teased it out, blue eyes flicking to mine. "Are you hungry?"

"Piss off," I croaked and yanked my foot out of his warm hands.

After having all of the adrenaline and shock drained out of me, I was, in fact, hungrily, and my stomach rumbled loudly to that effect.

Soren grumbled something I didn’t quite catch before stepping out and pulling the door shut behind him.

"Maisie," Quinlan started.

"I’m not interested in your explanation," I said without glancing up at them. "I want to be left alone. Can I have that, at least?"

He reached out and I ignored the violent pull I felt when his thumb caressed my cheek, wiping my tear. His hand dropped before I could smack it away and he stepped back.

Mercer’s deep voice rolled over me, annoyingly soothing. "You can have space, Adams. But the duel is in less than three hours. We need to make sure you survive it."

I finally lifted my gaze to his. "Your crazy girlfriend isn’t going to kill me. Not while I’m mated to all of you."

It tasted bitter on my tongue and settled like rocks in my stomach.

Jericho’s fingers curled into fists. "No, she won’t kill you," he said quietly. "But she will try to break you. That is how Tessa fights. Without honor. She doesn’t want victory. She wants your destruction."

My nails dug into my palm. "And I’m supposed to believe that you care if she breaks me? Or are you just worried when she’s done, your little fuck toy wife will be too broken for your consummation ritual?"

Jericho’s eyes flared. "If that worries you so much then you can fucking relax, Maisie. Neither one of us will touch you without your precious consent."

Mercer made an odd sound in his throat in response to that. Then he returned to the pressing topic. "We don’t doubt you can hold your own in a fair fight. But without full access to your Lycan... you will lose. Even with it, the odds are not in your favor."

I bristled. "I did just fine in the bathtub at the mansion."

Quinlan shook his head. "Tessa wasn’t trying to kill you that day. She had thought you an easy mark and had pounced on the perfect opportunity to mark her territory. She was caught off guard when you fought back.

"This time will be different," he continued. "She knows what you’re capable of and she will be careful. Tessa fights for the blood crown and a place she considers stolen. There will be blood. Whose and how much depends heavily on how prepared you are."

I put two and two together and my body tensed up. They wanted to force her to the surface. "You are not sinking your fangs into my neck again."

Jericho’s eyes crinkled. It was the first sign of humor I’d seen in his eyes all night. "That will not be necessary. It should be easier now with the bond. It’ll just take a few seconds, actually."

***

It didn’t work.

Nothing worked.