“That’s Beta Fergus,” Alpha Logan answered, his arms still locked around Maya’s waist, voice a low growl that vibrated against her spine.
Maya looked up, her eyes hard but glinting with that flash of fear she tried to bury, the fear masked with anger so sharp it cut the air between them.
Logan’s gaze dropped, tracing every healing welt on her skin where the silver chains had burned into her flesh. His eyes darkened, lips curling back in a silent snarl.
“Where did he touch you?” Logan asked, his voice soft, dangerous, promising blood.
Maya stiffened, her lips parting, but the words died in her throat. She knew that look in his eyes—dark, feral, the promise of murder layered beneath.
“Don’t, Logan. Let’s leave here. I don’t feel too good,” she whispered, grabbing his forearm, her nails
