Page 132 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

My lungs seized. “You see him?” I whispered.

“Um… Yes.”

I attempted to swallow the lump lodged in my throat. It didn’t budge. Kevin was one of the few in my pack who knew of Damon’s intimate connections to me—that he was my fated mate. He’d been there when Alpha Ryan had stated such during our visit to the Silverfang’s pack office. Kevin had been a valuable friend and kept the secret alongside Garret. I let loose a watery smile. “Thanks, Kev, for letting me know.”

“Sure thing, Alpha.”

Then the line went dead.

I stared down, blinking, at the screen on the phone. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, a tangled web that no one could unravel. Slamming my eyelids closed, I grappled, gathering my composure. Then I whirled around and set to work gathering warriors primed for battle. The ones that seemed to need a bit more recovery time, I left behind to guard the camp with a few able-bodied sentinels.

With my warriors at my side, I raced into the shadows of the night that clung to the trees. My feet ate up the ground, legs propelling me forward. I was unaware of the swift footsteps of my fellow pack members around me, failing to notice those who could transform and run on all four paws. With grim determination, I sprinted forward. As I drew closer to the site, a whiff of bear drifted toward us on the breeze, along with the scent of my pack. I pushed on, arms pumping at my sides.

Up ahead, I caught a ring of figures intercepting another group. My eyes grew slitted. The sentinels had cut off Damon and his bears, but instead of a battle that I half expected to come across, I met a stand off.

Damon’s voice carried in my direction. “I need to speak with Sasha.”

My inner wolf growled, her anger at his betrayal a palpable thing.

“Get your mangy asses off our land,” I growled at Damon as I came up beside the line of sentinels.

Claws unsheathed, fangs bared, my pack moved into battle positions. Damon’s gaze swung to me, a look of wonder sweeping across his face.

“Sasha,” he breathed.

I took a menacing step toward him, intent on slashing his face. Damon’s eyes grew solemn and what he did next stole the breath from my lungs. Damon dropped to his knees. He tilted his head to the side, angling his neck toward me.

The ultimate gesture of submissiveness.

A collective gasp erupted from both werebear and werewolf.

“I come to you, Sasha,” Damon said. “To bring you an offering.” He gestured behind him at a group of bears among his sentinels. My eyes narrowed on Rick and his bears dealt the attack. “They are yours to kill.”

My head whipped back to Damon. I blinked in a daze, wondering if my ears had failed me. I was sure I’d heard wrong.

“You’d turn us over to the wolves?” Rick barked at Damon. The other bears at his side—prisoners, I realized—grew agitated, sensing their lives were ending soon.

Damon snapped his dark gaze to Rick. “No. I am offering you all to my fated mate. I am granting her the honor of slaying you worthless scum!” Damon’s fangs jabbed out. “Be grateful that I’m not the one killing you. I’d drag your deaths out for ages. You’d be begging to die.”

Fresh tears stung my eyes. I blinked, trying to stop them, to no avail. Damon had signaled this sacrifice, and I knew it. He was earnest. He’d come all this way to prove that he and his clan were innocent. Now, his pack had no affiliation with Rick or the rogue bears. It was unheard of for an alpha to surrender his pack mates to death over such a scheme—no arrangement could be so elaborate. An alpha would die for his pack, except in one instance: If those pack mates were traitors. Only then would an alpha execute them.

But Damon’s giving me the respect of the pack offended by Rick’s heinous crime to deal with his fatal punishment.

My heart swelled so much I feared it would explode. I swallowed the tears lodged in the back of my throat and gave a jerky nod to Damon. His shoulders relaxed, and I sensed Damon’s relief, signifying his comprehension of the array of emotions swirling in my eyes.

I turned to the rogue wolves. Damon pushed to his feet and stepped to the side. With a lift of his chin, he called his sentinels to him, leaving Rick and the group of bears displayed and unprotected. A menacing growl tore from my throat. Rick’s gaze lost its usual cockiness and showed a flicker of fear since my first encounter with the bear.

He whirled an imploring gaze toward Damon. “W-Wait! We... Perhaps we can work something out,” Rick said. He licked his lips. “I-I have information that you need regarding the Dark Fae Lord!”

Pitiful. A sorry excuse for a Were, Rick wasn’t above begging for his life.

Sentinel indeed.

My inner wolf snarled. Her claws sank into my mind as she relished Rick’s blood slipping down our throat. Throwing back my head, I let out a keening howl to engage. My pack howled their rage, their lust for the blood of those that hurt us.

I launched forward, and before Rick could utter another plea, sank my fangs into his throat. The metallic tang of blood burst inside my mouth. With one vicious yank of my head, I tore his throat out, leaving Rick’s corpse to collapse onto the hard earth. Around me, my pack slayed the other rogues. The werebears’ cries for mercy—their last screams—were a morbid melody to my ears. Then everything in the forest grew silent. I cast a final disgusted glance at Rick’s body and stepped around the carnage, facing Damon and his bears.

I dipped my head. “Thank you,” I told Damon.

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