Page 171 of The Wolf King

“Yes. He should die. But your men do not need to die,” I say. “You don’t need to die. And neither do I. Take me to Sebastian as planned. Hold back your men. Let me go with him. Give me a weapon. Something small. I can get close to him without his guard being raised. If you wish him dead, then I shall kill him myself. You will send some men to retrieve me when it is done, and you will bring me back to Callum.”

He lets out a throaty, bitter laugh. “Even if I believed you had it in you to kill him—which I don’t—why should I deprive myself of the pleasure of doing it myself?”

“Because lives will be lost if you choose to attack. The lives of your men.”

He swallows, and I wonder if he is considering it. But then his grip on the reins tightens. “I will not squander this opportunity. I will be killing Sebastian this night. That’s the end of the discussion. You’re lucky I do not execute you myself.”

“I love him,” I say, softly. “I cannot marry you, because I love Callum.”

The admission surprises me as it escapes my lips. It is as if it were trapped somewhere deep within my soul. And as it gains freedom, wisping away with a plume of my breath, some of the weight bearing down on my chest lifts.

It is true, I realize. I love him.

I may not know much about love. I may have guarded my heart and kept my emotions locked within me for many years now. But somehow Callum got inside me, and made me feel free. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him.

I may never see him again. I may die tonight.

But I die knowing that truth, and knowing the taste of freedom it gave me.

In the distance, there are dots of light puncturing the shadows.

Sebastian’s men.

My heart sinks.

James pulls the reins abruptly, and the horse halts. I inhale sharply, wondering why we’ve stopped.

He whistles, then dismounts and strides over to someone who is on horseback. My eyebrows raise when I realize it is a female soldier. She hands something to him, a strap of some kind, and he walks back toward me.

“Off the horse,” he says.

Pulse racing, I slide down. My legs are shaky when my feet hit the earth.

The rest of his men linger on the grassy land behind, waiting for their king’s orders to ride onward.

James pulls a knife out of his belt, and I step away—my back hitting the horse’s body. The sharp blade glints in the moonlight with the same dangerous intent that glitters in his eyes.

His jaw is clenched, and every muscle in his body is taut as he steps toward me.

He looks angry. Furious. A monster of a man.

A king of Wolves.

My breathing quickens.

He crouches by my feet, pressing one knee into the muddy earth. He hoists up my skirt.

Cold terror seeps through my bones, freezing me in place even though my mind is screaming at me to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here—letting him do whatever he wants with me.

He slips a holster around my thigh and tightens it, before sliding in the knife. The cold weight of it presses against my skin. He releases me, letting the fabric of my skirt cover me once more.

His eyes snap up to mine. They’re the same shape as Callum’s but darker, and sterner.

“I do this for my brother, not for you. At least I can say I gave you a chance. My men will still attack. If by some means Sebastian gets away with you, if you kill him, I will allow you back into my kingdom.”

I swallow, then nod. A small knife is not much against an army. But it is better than nothing. And if I get the chance, I will gladly sink it into Sebastian’s heart.

“Thank you,” I say.

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