“Put a crown on my head, Zach. Let me sit in a throne soaked with your enemies’ blood."
"Call me Luna, call me Alpha, call me whatever straightens my spine. Give me power and I will unmake what you mourn. Let me feed off the pack and I’ll let your little wife breathe. Or I won’t. Your choice.”
Zach’s fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. The world narrowed to the smell of metal, the heat on his palms and the aftertaste of his father’s ash in his mouth.
“This b***h is full of herself,” he told himself, soft enough that only his wolf and the stone heard it.
Mira bared teeth in a grin that wasn’t Diva’s. “Just then,” she said through the cage, “I might think about letting go of your silly, weak mate. Maybe. If you earn it.”
Earn it. The word was a razor. He felt something savage a
