sharp beneath bushy silver brows.
âThatâs Graham Fuller,â Torrance whispered. âHeâs the Lead Elder and Masonâs fatherâs best friend.â Another figure stepped out of the trees, this one considerably younger than Fuller, his rich brown hair and dark eyes familiar. âYou know that one,â Torrance told her. âYou met Dylan at our wedding.â
Despite the fact that he was a member of the League, Dylan Riggs had always been a friend, as well as a supporter of the Bloodrunners. In fact, it had been Dylan who walked Torrance down the aisle at her wedding. Though his friendship with the Runners was strong, the past few weeks had put Dylan in a difficult position, as tension between the Bloodrunners and the pack increased.
More Elders entered the clearing, alternately taking their places on either side of Fuller, until the last one emerged. Michaela had yet to meet the notorious Lycan known for his purist views and hatred of humans and Bloodrunners alike, but she recognized him immediately from the description sheâd been given. Stefan Drake, the one whom the Runners believed was responsible for the growing number of rogue werewolves and other horrifying crimes, and the reason she and Max had remained under Bloodrunner protection, even after the death of Anthony Simmons, the rogue who had threatened Torranceâs life. Mason and the others had believed that if afforded the opportunity, Drake would use the Doucets as a way to strike out against the Runners, and theyâd been right.
Drake stood tall and lean, with sharp, aristocratic features made severe by the burning light of the torches and bonfire. Deep grooves of discontent lined the raw-boned features of his face, as if hate itself had worn him down. At one time, he had probably shared the same arresting looks as his children, until years of bitterness had finally left its destructive mark. His sharp, pewter-colored eyes found her and held, staring with a burning contempt that made Michaela recoil, despite her earlier determination to conceal her fear.
In the next moment, the Elders parted, and two hulking shapes emerged from the trees. In their wolf forms, the Lycans stood over seven feet tall, their legs bent at an odd angle as they stalked forward. Each held a thick chain that had been wound around their inside wrist, the twin lengths leading back into the shadows. Michaelaâs throat constricted the second she realized what was happening.
She swayed. Her vision blurred. âOh God, they havenât.â
âBe strong, Michaela,â Mason grunted. âMax is going to need your strength.â
Strength! She didnât have any left. Her knees sagged, and both Mason and Torrance caught at her waist as the Lycans walked forward. They had taken no more than a few steps, when they jerked on the chains and her brother appeared, emerging from the thick line of trees.
Bound like an animal.
Fury roared through her, jerking her upright as if sheâd been jolted with an electric current, every muscle in her body screaming for movement while she watched Max stumble into the clearing, his long, lanky body dressed in nothing more than tattered boxer shorts, his dark skin smeared with blood and grime. His thick, ebony hair hung over his brow, obscuring his eyes, his battered hands fisted around the two lengths of chain that looped his neck like a collar. His chest and legs were bloodied with deep, raw-looking wounds, which she knew had come from painful claw swipes; his left shoulder was a mangled, bloodied mess from where a rogue werewolf had latched on with its jaws, ripping into the skin and muscles with its lethally sharp fangs.
Oh God, Max. This canât be happening.
The sheer depth of her horror paralyzed her, freezing her muscles until not even her lungs were moving. âI swear itâs going to be okay, Mic,â her best friend promised in an urgent whisper. âLook around you. We have enough support to demand that they let him live, no matter the outcome of the ceremony.â
Support? Biting at her trembling lower lip, she glanced left, then right, surprised to see that others had joined them. She hadnât noticed anyone beyond Brody. But Jeremy Burns, Masonâs partner, and his fiancée, Jillian, had moved to Torranceâs other side, and she watched as Jillianâs father stepped forward to the place beside his daughter, his wife there with her arm around his waist. Michaela turned her head to the left and blinked in surprise to see Eric and Elise Drake, the Elderâs children, standing next to Mason, as well as two other couples she couldnât identify standing just behind Brody.
To the Bloodrunnerâs left stood his partner, Cian Hennessey, his dark head angled toward Brody, lips moving as he spoke. Michaela struggled to hear what he said, but the wind carried away his words like smoke. While they talked, Carla Reyes and Wyatt Pallaton came to stand beside Cian. There was no denying that the dark-eyed, loose-limbed Wyatt was certainly attractive, but Michaela shared an easy friendship with the Runner and nothing more, her private desires obstinately focused on the man who seemed determined to keep his distance.
Now the Bloodrunners and their family and friends stood as a united force against the Silvercrest pack that had yet to accept the fact that something sinister was eating away at its foundation, rotting it from the inside out, like a cancer. Something that would rip down the protective walls that separated their world from the humans. In the back of her mind, it occurred to Michaela that loyalties were being announced tonightâa separation made between those who would stand with the Runners in their fight against the rogues and those who blindly supported the packâs refusal to face reality and see Drake for what he really wasâbut all she could focus on was Max. He looked so hurtâ¦so terrified.
When one of the guards jerked on his end of the chain, sending Max stumbling forward so fast that he fell hard on his knees, she snapped. One second she was holding Torranceâs hand, all but squeezing the life out of her fingers, and in the next she was flying forward.
âLeave him alone!â she screamed, her soft-soled, black satin slip-ons struggling for purchase in the damp earth as she rushed toward Max, only to find herself lifted off the ground when a hard, heavily muscled arm clamped around her waist from behind, pulling her clear off her feet. âDamn it, let me down!â she snarled, unable to take her eyes off her brother as the golden-eyed Lycan whoâd first entered the clearing kicked him, yelling for Max to get back on his feet. On his hands and knees, Maxâs head hung forward, the gaping wound in his shoulder seeping fresh blood until a pool began to form beneath him.
Mindless with heartache and rage, Michaela clawed at the arm holding her, kicking her heels against whatever part of her captorâs legs she could reach. âStop it,â a deep, husky voice grunted in her ear. âYouâre not helping him by losing it. I give you my word heâll survive the ceremony, but you have to keep it together.â
âNooooo!â she screamed, too hysterical to listen to reason. âYouâre monsters! All of you! Look what youâve done to him! How dare you! How dare you!â
The arm tightened with a powerful flex of muscle, cinching her waist, and her breath sucked in on a sharp, wailing gasp. âShut up before you get both yourself and your brother killed. I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?â he growled, shaking her so hard that her teeth clicked together. âDo you understand me, Doucet?â
âDamn it!â she cried, stricken as she watched one of the guards grab Max by his hair and jerk him to his feet. Around them, Lycans huffed and growled as they watched the spectacle, while others outright howled for the show to begin. âPut me down! Iâm going to kill them for touching him!â
âThatâs enough!â the voice seethed
