by Everly Frost
Tristan inhales deeply, a moment of silence that feels like the second before thunder breaks. His mouth whispers across my forehead, the lightest kiss. Startlingly gentle.
“Don’t ever beg, Tessa,” he whispers. “Command. Order. Cajole. Rage. But never beg. My pack will need an alpha. They’re your responsibility now.”
My eyes widen. What is he saying—?
Before I can respond, he sets me aside so fast that I’m catching my breath as he strides from the alcove.
With a roar that echoes through the room, he lifts the nearest empty table and flips it, sending it spinning and crashing against the surrounding empty tables, knocking into them so hard that they slide across the room. Glasses shatter as they fall and silver table ornaments crash and roll across the floor.
The room freezes before it erupts. Shifters leap out of the way of the crashing tables. Some of them race toward Tristan. His fist darts out, knocking out the first man, sending the second sprawling, all while he rips off his jacket and tie and tears through his shirt.
While the shouting guests stream out, guards stream in, lining the room and pointing their guns at Tristan.
On the far side of the room, Charlotte suddenly appears in the doorway, along with Cody’s brother, Cameron, but Baxter shouts for his guards. “Get my family the hell out of here!”
Charlotte struggles against the guards, kicking and scratching them, struggling wildly. She reaches toward the side of the room opposite Baxter and I follow her line of sight to Cody.
He stands against the back wall closest to me.
I suddenly know, without a doubt, that Cody was the one Tristan focused on before he started to rage because Cody must have been following right behind me.
Charlotte screams. “No! Cody! Don’t fight Tristan. Don’t do it!”
She struggles free of one of the guards, but another tackles her, lifting her off her feet and carrying her, still screaming, from the room. A third guard grabs Cameron, who struggles and shouts, but the guards succeed in hauling him away too.
In the center of the room, Tristan flips all of the tables that stand in his way until he’s cleared a wide space in the middle.
I shudder.
It’s a combat ring.
Cody meets his father’s eyes across the room.
Baxter Griffin snarls and inclines his head sharply toward the combat ring.
Shadows grow in Cody’s expression, his jaw clenching, his eyebrows drawing down. He vaults the nearest table to enter the ring, but he paces at the edge opposite Tristan.
“C’mon, Tristan,” Cody calls. “Even if you win, the guards will gun you down. Is that what you want Tessa to see?”
Tristan levels his gaze with Cody’s. “If you wanted her, you should have fought for her at the Conclave. You’re a fucking coward.”
Cody’s jaw clenches as he smothers a growl. For a second, I think he’s going to ignore the taunt. He must be smart enough to know that Tristan is goading him into a fight.
Cody tugs at his tie, slipping it from his neck before he slides off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt.
I smother my gasp.
Cody’s tattoo is complete. A snarling wolf’s head covers his muscled shoulder and the left side of his chest. The wolf is a glittering golden color—the same color as the golden flecks in his eyes—but it has a shadow, a second wolf snarling behind it that is insubstantial, made up of swirls of light.
The second wolf is cobalt blue.
I back up so fast that I bump into the wall behind me.
He had my wolf inked into his skin, a shadow of his own ferocity.
“Then consider this a fight for Tessa,” Cody says.
My heart leaps into my throat as the two men stride forward without another pause. Their fists land on the first hit, thudding against each other’s chests, their follow-up moves rapid and vicious. Within seconds, they’re both bleeding from splits across their cheeks and chests, while claw marks cut across their biceps.
With a snarl of rage, Tristan leaps at Cody, shedding his pants and shifting midair from human to wolf so fast that it takes my breath away. I’ve seen Tristan at his full power when he fought Peter Nash for my life, but I smother my scream with my hands when Cody leaps and shifts just as fast.
My heart stops.
I suspected Cody was powerful, but I never thought he was as powerful as Tristan.
Their wolves meet midair, their claws ripping across each other’s sides as they tumble and fall, tearing at each other. They are closely matched in size and strength. Tristan’s wolf is as dark as coal, a savage beast, while Cody’s is sleek and golden, his russet legs appearing as if they’ve been dipped in blood.
I bite my palm to stop myself from screaming at the sheer violence between them, my rising fear a sickening force inside me.
I don’t want this.
I don’t understand why Tristan chose this fight. He said that nobody is safe while the three-headed wolf exists, but he couldn’t ask me to kill the wolf after all. He said that it has to end tonight. But all I can see is that he’s trying to get himself killed.
One of the wolves yelps and it’s too much.
I can’t stand by and let them kill each other.
Vaulting the table that blocks my path, I run toward the snarling wolves as they separate, turn, and prepare to leap at each other again.
My power surges through me, out of control, panicked, cobalt blue power that gives me speed. I race between them, my arms outstretched on either side of me.
“Stop!” I scream as the wolves leap toward each other again.
Their wolves are like wrecking balls, unstoppable as they fly toward me, heavy, brutish, claws out. My hair flies around my face as I spin, my foot colliding with Cody’s underbelly at the same time as my fist swings to thump Tristan’s side.
But even with all my strength, I can’t stop their momentum.
They veer off-course, one on either side of me, but their claws rake across me.
Cody’s claws rip across my chest while Tristan’s tear across my back. I need to arch and hunch at the same time, unable to protect either side of my body.
I drop to the floor, screaming with pain.
Both men tumble to the ground on either side of me. Within a blink, they shift back into their human forms.
“Fuck, no! Tessa!” Cody runs for me, but Tristan reaches me first, looming up over me, smashing his fist into Cody’s face and driving him back, a harder hit than he used before.
Cody lands heavily on his side, but he leaps to his feet again, stepping toward me before Tristan’s growl forces him to back off and pace around us.
Beyond the haze of pain, I’m aware of an extra disturbance at the side of the room, as if my scream drew even more attention. I catch a brief glimpse of Ford Vanguard with his two mercenaries looming in the doorway. Their hard stares burn into me before Tristan drops to his knees beside me, blocking them from my view.
“Tessa.” He reaches out toward my back but doesn’t touch me.
I can’t see the damage there to know how bad it is. I’m hunched over my chest, nursing my wounds. The straps of my dress are holding on by threads. Blood slips down my chest and stomach, but it’s a slow drip that tells me the wounds are rips across my skin, deep enough to cause me pain but not to kill me.
When Tristan reaches for my hands, trying to see my chest, I scream at him. “Tell me why you did this!”
Tristan flinches and his shoulders hunch. “Let me see the damage.”
“No!” I snarl at him. “Don’t fucking touch me until you tell me why you did this when we could have walked away alive?”
On the other side of the tables—on the side opposite where Ford Vanguard waits—Baxter Griffin leans forward, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. I can read his thoughts as easily as if he speaks them. His gloating smile tells me he thinks he’s witnessing the downfall of the most ruthless shifter, Tristan Masters brought down by a freak bitch.
N
earby, Cody wears a very different expression, the corners of his mouth turned down, the same as when he looked at the picture of Ella, a mix of deep regret and pain.
“The three-headed wolf is coming for me, Tessa,” Tristan says, his voice rough. “It’s better this way.”
Better like this? How could this be better?
A sob tears out of me. I’m angry. I’m ready to rage. But I’m also hurting. Letting go of my chest, I spin to Tristan, allowing him to see all the damage, the cuts across my stomach and chest, my breasts barely concealed. Blood covers my hands and smears my clothing, dripping onto the tulle skirt.
“Then I’ll kill him.” I snarl, my voice rising again. “I’ll fight him. I’m strong enough. You know that I’m strong enough to face any darkness.”
“No.” Tristan groans. His breathing is ragged.
Tears leak from his eyes, shocking me to my core.
“No, Tessa.” He reaches out to grip my shoulders. “When I first inhaled your scent, I knew what you are. I know things about you, Tessa, but I need to take those secrets with me when I die. You need to live without the sins of your father weighing on your shoulders.”
I jolt, fear striking through me, rising above my physical pain. I want to scream at Tristan to tell me what he knows. What does he know about my father? What does he know about me?
I remember all the way back to the night we first met. He leaned close to me, inhaled my scent, and told me that he had to be sure.
Clarity is sharp now.
“You knew my scent already,” I whisper. “It was familiar to you.” Somehow, he needed to be sure that my scent was what he thought it would be. “How did you know my scent?”
His expression hardens. “All that matters is that you have the strength to save my pack.”
“I will!” My hands press to Tristan’s cheeks, my blood smearing through his tears, trying to make him believe me. “Tell me where the wolf is. I’ll go there. Right now. I’ll end him.”
Tristan closes his eyes. “He’s right in front of you.”
I shake my head. “Tristan… I don’t understand…”
He opens his eyes.
As his gaze meets mine, his emotional walls crash down. His deepest impulses smash into me, a wave of darkness so pure that a scream builds in my throat. The darkness chokes me, a force so bloody, so full of hatred and malice and thirsting for pain that my scream fails and I can’t breathe.
“He’s part of me, Tessa,” Tristan says. “The same way he was part of my father. And my grandfather, and his father before him.”
The thirsty darkness rushes through me, growing, building, creeping toward my heart and curling around it, squeezing so hard that I fear my heart will stop beating.
“The deceiver. The coward. And finally, the killer,” Tristan says. “They are the three personalities of Cerberus, my ancestor. The wolf whose three minds destroyed him. We can try to fight the impulse to lie. We can try to hide from our sins. We can rage against the need for blood, but eventually, our darker nature wins.”
He strokes my hair from my face, nudges my lips with his, even though I’m drowning in his darkness and my screams can’t escape.
“I am the three-headed wolf,” Tristan says. “I will kill everyone I love. Just like my father did. Until someone is strong enough to end me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
My scream rages through me, an incoherent wail that shrieks around the room. Tristan is tearing my heart apart. My wolf knows what needs to be done, but my human heart is breaking.
Tristan strokes my face before he draws back. “All you have to do is step aside, Tessa.”
He rises quietly to his feet, pulling me with him.
I sense his physical pain where he allowed himself to be hit, where he didn’t dodge blows, where he welcomed the wounds Cody inflicted. He could have really fought back—it looked like he was—but he could have ended the fight swiftly if he’d wanted to. The melding bond allows me to sense his heart hammering in his chest, a rapid beat.
His body is fighting to live while his mind has made its decision.
I don’t know what he intends when he turns me toward Cody until he says, “Get Tessa out of here. Make sure she doesn’t see anything.”
There’s a storm in Cody’s eyes. The tattoo across his chest is smeared with blood, some his own, some Tristan’s, possibly even some mine, but the ink isn’t damaged. My wolf’s silhouette is a perfect shadow to Cody’s wolf within the tattoo.
His shoulders are squared, his incisors bared. I have no insight into his real feelings for me. When I tore away his inhibitions, he wanted me, but he also described me as a thorn in his paw, a pain he can’t escape. I wonder now if his tattoo is a reminder that I am his enemy—the same way Tristan’s tattoo is a depiction of self-destruction.
Now, Tristan is handing me over to Cody, willingly giving me to his enemy, requesting that Cody protect me.
I’m stunned as Tristan leaves my side and strides toward Baxter.
Tristan drops to his knees on the ground, bares his neck, and splays his arms out at his side, shouting at the same time. “Baxter Griffin! I want to make a deal.”
It’s a submissive pose, one wolves only make when they’re surrendering.
Baxter shoves aside the tables that stand between himself and Tristan. His eyes are brighter than before, his smile cruel. “Name your terms.”
“My life for my pack’s,” Tristan says.
Baxter folds his arms across his chest. His scars are hidden beneath his formal attire, but I remember them, curved and old, from the night I first saw him. “Repeat your offer so I understand you clearly.”
“My pack isn’t responsible for what happened to your daughter,” Tristan says, keeping his neck bared. “I was prevented from killing my father that night. That’s on me. My pack is innocent. They’ve paid a price they never should have paid. Take your revenge on me and let them live in peace.”
Baxter’s smile is triumphant. “I accept your terms. Prepare to breathe your last.”
No. My objection chokes in my throat. I’m not bonded to Tristan, but I feel like my life is about to be ripped away from me, like it’s my throat that is bared.
Baxter holds out his hand to the guard on his left, who gives him a dagger.
It’s such an emotionless gesture that I want to scream. Every nerve in my body is on fire. Every beat of my heart thumps loudly. Every breath I take shrieks in my ears.
Tristan believes he’s going to hurt and kill everyone he loves. He believes that his ancestor’s curse will become his curse. He saw his father succumb to the darkness and now he thinks it will happen to him too. He chose me because he thought I’d be strong enough to kill him, like he had to kill his father. Jace tried to warn me; he told me I didn’t know whose bed I was keeping warm, but I didn’t understand his meaning. Helen tried to warn me too, when she told me that even the old magic of Hidden House couldn’t control Tristan, that Tristan was more dangerous than I could imagine.
Tristan wanted me to hate him so that I would find killing him easy.
But there’s a difference between him and his father.
His father didn’t have me.
There has to be another way through this, a path that hasn’t been walked before, a way to destroy the deceiver, the coward, and the killer before they take control.
I just need time to find it.
Right now, there’s only one way I can buy that time, one choice I can make.
Just as I move toward Baxter and Tristan, Cody steps between me and them, blocking my path. His gaze flickers between my bloody chest and my angry eyes. “Come with me, Tessa.”
“No!” My fist flies out.
Cody dodges the blow, but his evasive move allows me to duck around him.
Baxter prepares to grip Tristan’s head with one hand so he can slash his throat with the other.
Tristan’s emotional walls are back up, and now I’m getting nothing from him, no darkness, no
t even a shadow.
I slip between him and Baxter just as Baxter raises the knife.
My emotions are a volcano of anger and rage and fucking violent wrath, but I keep myself in check. My arm flies up in front of my chest, prepared to take the slash of the knife as I shout, “What will it take for you to leave Tristan and his pack in peace?”
“Tristan’s death.” Baxter snarls, gripping the dagger in his white-knuckled fist, ready to slash me with it.
My lip curls. “Don’t lie to me. You lost your daughter—one of the few people you actually loved. You suffered without her. You’re still hurting. So tell me again—what will it really take?”
Baxter’s jaw clenches. “I want Tristan Masters to suffer what I’ve suffered.”
My breathing is under control, more in control than I’ve ever been. “Then take me.”
Tristan tenses behind me, his emotional walls suddenly slipping, revealing a fiery mess of anger and fear within him.
Baxter laughs. “You’re his possession, Tessa. Tristan hasn’t marked you. He has no love for you. Why would it cause him pain if you’re taken away from him?”
My voice lowers, my speech careful, because I need Baxter to understand exactly what I mean. “It’s the nature of my wolf that I can’t bond,” I say. “I will never have a true mate. But Tristan can.”
“No.” Tristan’s whisper behind me is so furious that my gaze is pulled to him. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he shakes his head at me, growls rumbling in his chest. “Don’t do this.”
Only Tristan could make a plea sound like a threat.
Baxter’s gaze narrows as he takes glances between us, a curious light entering his eyes. “What are you saying, Tessa?”
My human heart is in pieces. I saw the truth in Tristan’s eyes when he nudged kisses all over my body, preparing me for his mark. I heard it in his voice when he told me that he couldn’t ask me to kill the three-headed wolf. I felt it in his kiss when he told me never to beg. When he pulled down all of his walls and let me experience his true nature, the darkness that he allowed to rush through me nearly suffocated me—I felt it when we melded and I felt it again tonight—but his true nature also revealed the truth he’s been hiding from me.