The details were lost to the tightening in my chest, the narrowing of my field of vision. All I knew was that I had to fight.
Rose, stop. Callum’s voice—the alpha voice—irritated me, and I shook it off, intent on escaping, but then it came again, louder. And insistent. And, strangely enough, more Callum than alpha. Rossetta, CEASE.
And so I did. I stopped. The haze receded. And it wasn’t until I froze in motion that I realized how quickly I’d come to cutting my best friend’s Achilles heel.
Dumbfounded, I went absolutely still, and Macbeth, his eyes dilated and beginning to yellow, shook his head, clearing his mind and pushing his beast down. Of the two of us, Mac recovered first, and—after rubbing his red-rimmed eyes—he leaned forward, blew a single puff of air at my face, and then mimi
