Page 76 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

"Get Landon back to the campsite, Quinn. And don't fucking give me orders about how to save my mate."

With that, I slip through the trees. Footsteps follow behind me and I know Quinn has assigned me more men. I can't say I blame him. I really do feel like shit.

My muscles strain with every movement and keeping my eyes open is an effort. Several days lacking sleep would do that to anyone.

We emerge at the west gate and are greeted with the sight of...bodies. Ronan's men and ours alike, bloodied, dismembered, twisted. This is the part of war no one likes to face. The very part I had been avoiding. Deaths. Sacrifices. Useless deaths that could've been avoided.

When you ask the important questions, they say they died for their loyalty, for their Alphas they would give their lives willingly. It is the way of the packs. In truth, they die for something as flimsy as a ruler's greed, or lust of wealth or women. They die for disagreements that can be resolved easily. They die because they inherit problems that have nothing to do with them.

It is sickening, but it is nothing I haven't seen before. "Check for survivors and call for back up," I order, crossing body after body to make it to the open gate.

Inside there are more bodies, more fighting, more men pouring in, the flash of claws, teeth and steel. For as many of my men and Baldwin's have fallen, Ronan's too have bitten the dust. It explains the scantiness of the yard and mansion. It explains the emptiness.

Still, something about it sets me on edge.

I grip the pistol tighter, heart racing with fear. Things must have gone haywire. I try stretching out my instincts but I hearnothing. The only sound of breathing I catch comes from the hallway beyond, where the grand hall resides and when I sniff, I catch Seraphina's scent entwined in it.

I assume the rest of the mansion has been carted towards the safe rooms hidden below for times like this within the hour I was gone. Ronan works fast, I'll give him that. But that in itself scares me.

I've been gone for more than one hour.

He could've killed—I bury the thought. I would feel it if she was gone. Losing one's mate brought on a pain that was often regarded as worse than death. I would know if she was hurt.

I follow the scent through the hallways, more certain as I sight the bodies that Eric hasn't arrived yet. Considering the amount of men I found with Quinn, this was the other half of his flank.

The doors to the grand hall are hanging off the hinges, claw marks scratching them and I pull short at the laughter that grates up my spine, followed by a clap. "There he is."

I'm unsure what to look at first. Callahan leaning comfortably against his throne with a bloodied sword dangling from his hand. Tova standing by his side, looking every inch the fierce High Luna. And Seraphina, forced to her knees at her feet with a gun held by a guard to her temple.

I contemplate the distance. I contemplate tearing the male apart, limb from limb. I contemplate gouging his eyes out and feeding it to him.

I don't do it. The distance would be nothing if I was at full speed, but I am not and Callahan knows that.

Lips cracking on an asinine smile, he oozes amusement. "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

I barely hear him over the ringing in my ears. There is a purple bruise forming around Seraphina's eyes. Blood drips from her pert nose and her lips are burst. A terrible, cold calm falls over me as her gaze holds mine. Even now, in the face of death, she looks more angry than terrified, her eyes blazing with murderous fire.

Her clothes are in tatters, her skin is reddened with new handprints and nail marks that cover my bruises. My nostrils flare. My fingers twitch. He touched her. Hurt her. Humiliates her by placing her in the middle of a room filled with men who leer at her body on display and watch her with unbridled lust.

My legs move?—

The crack of a gunshot snaps the air and my heart lurches as Seraphina jerks to the side, shuffling away from the spot on the ground that had been aimed at.

"Make no mistake, Winter," Callahan purrs. "You so much as breathe wrong and her brain matter will decorate these floors." When he is sure I won't make another move, he presses his fingers together. "Drop the weapons. All three of them."

I listen. I'm a better fighter without weapons in the way. I debate asking him what he wants, but I already know. He wants me gone. He wants everything I own. And offering it to him will only make my death come faster.

Eric will be here soon. I need to buy time until he arrives. "I challenge you to a duel," I say.

Hearty laughter fills the room. "Now, why the fuck would I do that? I have the upper hand. You're sorely outnumbered, if you haven't noticed. I could kill you where you stand."

"But you won't," I goad, snapping my knuckles. "Because then, you'll never know if you were the better Alpha. The better man."

"None of those things matter in the grand scheme of things, Winter," he says, but I see the shift in his posture, the inward curve of his shoulders like he has become unsure of himself.

"Always the close second. Never quite good enough," I purr. "Is that what bred your obsession with me? Your father's need to remind you every day of your incompetence?"

"Shut the hell up!" he snarls, eyes burning.

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