Page 81 of Guardians of the Assassins
“They were going to die anyway.” He gave a negligible shrug, completely unrepentant, flashing her a toothy grin that made his teeth look longer and sharper. “Might as well make them useful. They would either kill your pack or you would get rid of them, problem solved. The wolfsbane is just an added bonus to eliminate whoever remained.”
The metal wolves growled at his reply and prowled along the wards, clawing at the ground, eager to get at the man, as if sensing the rot inside his soul, but they knew better than to venture beyond wards. Their main focus was to protect the coven.
“You really are a fucking idiot.” Draven marched forward, ignoring the small contingent of soldiers with their guns pointed at him, and grabbed one of the feral wolves before he heaved it over his shoulder. “Not only did you attack another pack unprovoked, you sent a bunch of innocent, sick wolves to their death instead of helping them.”
Ryder gave a piercing whistle to call the wolves who remained on guard, then joined Draven, checking over the wolves on the ground, helping the pack shift back to their human forms. About two dozen wolves emerged from the darkness and came from around the back of the house.
They didn’t need to be directed and immediately began collecting the injured wolves. They had so much faith in her that they trusted her and the others to keep them safe. A couple of the ferals snarled, but they were too weak to fight back when they were hauled away.
Carrington burst out laughing in genuine amusement. “You can’t heal the ferals. It’s a mercy to hunt them down and put them out of their misery.”
“You’re wrong, it just takes a lot of power to heal them.” Her lips curled in disgust as she surveyed him. “You either didn’t care enough to do what is right or you didn’t want to give up your power to help them. Knowing you, it’s both.”
“Lies!” he shouted, spit flying as he shot her a murderous glare. “Everyone knows that they’re a danger to both the pack and humans.”
Morgan cocked her head to the side. “I almost think you believe that. Maybe you told the lie so many times, you don’t know the truth anymore.”
A few of the soldiers with him shifted, glancing at each other uneasily.
“Whoever told you such fairy tales was just trying to take advantage of a naïve fool, and you fell for it.” He planted his hands on his hips, a pitying scowl on his face, but the menacing look in his eyes dared her to question him again.
“That’s strange. I was under the impression that fae couldn’t outright lie. They deceive, twist words, but couldn’t actually tell a falsehood.” Morgan glanced at Caedmon and Atlas, waiting for their confirmation.
“What?” Carrington took a threatening step toward her, murder darkening his eyes. “You’re lying.”
Morgan rolled her eyes at him. “Why would I lie about something like that—something that can be proven? Ferals have a magical imbalance that doesn’t allow them to shift back. Eventually, their wolf takes over. My guess is most of the older alphas know about the cure, but the cost is too high.”
Some of the shooters lowered their guns, turning to stare at Carrington, their anger practically vibrating in the air.
Carrington threw back his head and laughed, and chills raced up her spine at the insanity that rang in it. “You know, I might have let some of your wolves come back to me, after they paid for their defiance, but you just sealed their fate. Not only must you and your mates die, so must everyone else.”
He shook his head like it was a great shame, but smugness oozed from his pores.
And she realized that had been his end goal all along.
He wanted anyone who dared defy him dead.
A few of the soldiers raised their shotguns, but they didn’t shoot.
A furrow formed between Carrington’s eyes, and he glanced at his men in confusion, then a snarl twisted his face. His chest swelled, and alpha power slithered through the air like a toxic cloud that tore away people’s ability to think for themselves, turning the others into mindless flesh suits to do his bidding. “Fire!”
The men looked like they were marionettes, their limbs jerking as they fought for control.
But it did no good.
One by one, the gun barrels rose.
All except for the one man in the back, who stood with crossed arms and observed everything, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.
Something about him was off.
Warped.
Wrong.
Her mates looked ready to tackle her to the ground, and she waved them off with a small shake of her head. Instead of trembling in fear, she lifted her arms and magic shot out of her in a blast just as the soldiers fired. The world seemed to slow down as the bullets paused midair, streaks of heat rippling behind them.
A couple of the bullets crashed into the wards and shattered like they were blown apart.
