Page 73 of The Wolf

I pull back just enough to look at her face, my hands cradling her cheeks as I check for injuries. No cuts or bruises—he healed her completely… but that doesn’t matter. My heart clenches anyway, a heavy fist that won’t let go. Nothing will take away the memory of the pain she felt.Becauseof him.

I glance up, and there he is, standing nearby, watching us in silence. He’s a figure of stone—literally and metaphorically—but today, he seems smaller, diminished under the weight of his guilt. His posture is defeated, his shoulders are slumped, his wings tucked close to his back, and his eyes meet mine with something that looks like resignation.

He knows. Heknowswhat’s coming.

I lower Julia gently back onto her feet, and my anger flares, a flame I can't extinguish. I turn to face him with a loud snarl.

“No, Alex, don’t!” Julia’s voice rings out behind me, sharp and pleading, but it does nothing to stem the tsunami of fury crashing over me.

“He left you!” I growl, my voice thunderous, echoing off the castle walls.

“He came back!” she argues, stepping forward, but I keep my eyes locked on the gargoyle, my rage blinding me to everything but him. “He was ready to sacrifice himself for me,” she continues, her voice breaking, raw with emotion.

“Heleftyou,” I repeat. The words taste bitter in my mouth, but they feel like the only fucking truth in the world right now.

“Alex,” she says again, softer this time. “I’m good. We’re good. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Oh, yes, he does.

Before she can say another word, I leap forward, my claws extended, and every ounce of animosity I’ve been holding back seethes to the surface. The gargoyle doesn’t even flinch as I slam into him, my weight driving him to the ground. His back cracks against the dirt, the earth shakes with force, and I roar into his face—an inhuman, guttural sound that tears through my soul like a jagged knife.

My claws find his chest, raking down with savage precision. The flesh resists for a split second before it yields, peeling away like weathered leather. Dark purple blood erupts from the deep gashes, splattering onto my hands, soaking into my fur, and pooling beneath us. The sight of it only fuels the fire inside me.

“Alex! Alex, please stop it!” Julia screams, her panicked voice cuts through the chaos, but it barely registers. Her words are a fleeting echo, lost in the hurricane of my wrath. I am beyond reason, beyond restraint. All I see is red, my vision blurring with an unrelenting frenzy, the blood pumping in my ears.

I can’t stop. Iwon’t. Every drop of blood, every broken piece of him feels like one step closer to quelling the storm of vengeance inside me.

And the fucking bastard just lies there. He doesn’t counterattack. Doesn’t even attempt to block my strikes. His eyes stay fixed on mine, steady and unblinking, as if silently agreeing with every strike I land. His silence speaks louder than any plea for mercy. It’s a grim confirmation of his guilt that infuriates me more. It mocks me, taunts me, drives me deeper into this haze, stirring the beast inside me.

“Fight back, damn you!” I roar, my voice feral, my breath coming in ragged bursts. My claws sink into his abdomen this time, blood drenching my hands as I tear through the thick hide that guards his core, slashing muscle. But without himdefending himself, the resistance of his body, that slow yield of his flesh to my strength, gives me absolutely nothing.

I raise my claws, and a snarl rips from my throat as I aim for his heart. But something in his eyes stops me. Even now, they’re locked on mine, filled with an unspoken acceptance. His calm compliance freezes me mid-swing. Then I realize.

He wants this.

For a moment, the madness clears just enough for me to see him. See him for who he truly is—a broken shell of a creature that lies beneath his stony exterior.

The inferno inside me is still raging, but the sight of him—wrecked, battered, and unmoving—gives me pause. Every fiber of my being is screaming to finish him, to rip him apart until there’s nothing left.

But he's not worth it.

With a growl of frustration, I release him and stand above him, chest heaving. My claws drip with his blood, and the air around us is thick and heavy with tension.

The gargoyle groans in pain—the sound is music to my ears—as he slowly pushes himself up, his posture looming but unsteady. The deep slashes across his chest are already beginning to close, his healing working far too quickly for my enjoyment.

“Get out. Get the fuck out!”I bellow, lifting him in the air by the throat. His breath rasps faintly against my tightening grip. I slam him back down, his head bouncing off the ground with an audible thud. The heavy impact sends small rocks and debris flying, dust clinging to the blood and sweat covering my fur.

“No,” he says, getting up, his voice steady despite the fresh wounds. “I’m not leaving her.”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound twisted and cruel. My hand tightens into a fist, claws digging into my palm, and I swing, putting my full weight behind it. My knuckles connectwith his jaw, and he stumbles back but doesn’t fall.He spits blood, yet his eyes never waver.

“Get. Out!” I growl, slashing at his face from the opposite direction this time. My claws tear through this cheek, leaving deep grooves, as his head snaps to the other side. “You’re no longer welcome here.”

Behind me, I feel Julia’s presence, her warmth cutting through the icy revenge consuming me. Her soft hand brushes against mine, her touch gentle but firm, grounding me when I can barely keep myself together.

“He came back,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, like that fact could change everything.

“And what if he didn’t?” I counter, my voice snappy, though the anger is already beginning to ebb, the fire in my veins slowly dying down.

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