Slave To The Savage King (Savage Series, Book 1)

The screaming had stopped an hour ago. That was somehow worse than when it had been everywhere, filling the air with the sound of dying wolves and burning homes. Now there was just smoke and the wet, heavy silence that came after battle. The kind of silence that pressed against your ears until you wanted to claw at them just to make it stop. Sierra's hands were still wrapped around her sword. She couldn't let go. Every muscle in her body had locked up, frozen in place even though the fighting was done. Blood dripped from the blade, making soft pattering sounds against the scorched earth beneath her boots. She didn't know whose blood it was anymore. Enemy, packmate, her own. It had all mixed together into the same dark red that stained everything. She was on her knees. She didn't remember falling. Around her, the ruins of Frostfang smoked and crumbled. The great hall where she'd celebrated her last birthday was nothing but collapsed beams and ash. The training grounds where she'd earned her reputation as the pack's finest warrior were torn up, littered with bodies wearing familiar faces. Old Garrett who'd taught her to fight. Young Lissa who'd just had her first shift last month. All of them are gone. All of them are dead. And they'd lost. The thought kept circling in her head like a vulture. They'd lost. Frostfang had never lost. Not in two hundred years. They were strong, they were always ready, they had the advantage of terrain and determination and every single reason to fight to the last breath. But they'd lost anyway. Sierra's vision blurred and she blinked hard, forcing the weakness back down. Tears were pointless. Grief was pointless. Everything was pointless now except trying to understand what the hell had gone wrong. Their defenses had failed at every critical moment. Supply lines cut before the battle even started. Guard rotations that left gaps in their walls exactly when the enemy needed them. It was like someone had handed the Silvermaw forces a map of every weakness, every vulnerability, every secret way into their stronghold. Like someone had betrayed them from the inside. Her head snapped up, searching the battlefield through the smoke. Where was he? Where was Darius? Her betrothed and her lover. The man who'd sworn a thousand times that he'd die before he let anyone harm her or their pack. He'd been fighting on the eastern wall, the last time she'd seen him. That was hours ago, before everything went to hell. Before the walls came down and the enemy poured in like a flood. She tried to stand and her legs shook so badly she nearly went down again. Everything hurts. Her ribs were cracked, she was pretty sure. There was a deep gash across her left thigh that she'd been ignoring because stopping to deal with it would've meant dying. Her right shoulder felt wrong, dislocated maybe, and there was blood in her mouth that tasted like copper and bloody failure. But she was alive. That meant she could still fight. That meant she could find Darius and figure out what happened and maybe, maybe find a way to salvage this nightmare. "Well, well. Look who's still breathing." The voice came from behind her, smooth and familiar and so wrong in this moment that her entire body went cold. Sierra turned slowly, her sword coming up even though her arms were screaming in protest. Darius stood ten feet away, perfectly clean and not a scratch on him. Not a single drop of blood on his armor. His dark hair was neat, his stance relaxed, and he was smiling. Actually smiling, like this was all some kind of joke. Behind him stood at least twenty soldiers. Not Frostfang wolves. Silvermaw warriors, wearing the black and silver of the enemy, and they weren't attacking him. They were standing there like guards. Like they were protecting him. Sierra's mind went blank for a second, unable to process what she was seeing. Then everything clicked into place with horrible, perfect clarity. "No." The word came out as barely a whisper. "No, you didn't." Darius's smile widened. "I did. Sorry, love. Nothing personal. Well, actually, that's not true. Some of it was very personal." Her sword arm was shaking now but not from exhaustion. From rage so pure it felt like her blood was boiling under her skin. "You sold us out. You gave them everything. Our defenses, our plans, everything, right?" "Guilty." He said it cheerfully, like he was admitting to stealing an extra dessert. "The Alpha King made me a very generous offer. Title, land, gold, and all I had to do was open a few gates and feed him some information. Easiest decision of my life, honestly." "We were your pack." Sierra's voice cracked. "I was your pack. You swore oaths. You were going to be my mate." Something flickered across Darius's face. Disgust, maybe. "About that. Yeah, I might've oversold my enthusiasm there. The truth is, Sierra, you were always a little too much for me. Too intense, too aggressive, too damn good at everything. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is being with a woman who's better at fighting than you are? Who everyone respects more than they respect you?" Each word hit like a physical blow. Sierra felt something inside her chest crack wider with every casual cruelty. "So when the Alpha King's messenger approached me, when he told me I could be a hero on the winning side instead of living in your shadow forever, well." Darius shrugged. "It wasn't a hard choice." "I'll kill you." Sierra took a step forward, raising her sword despite the pain. "I swear to every god, I'll cut your heart out." "You'll try." Darius nodded to the soldiers behind him. "She's all yours, boys. The Alpha King wants her alive but he didn't say she had to be comfortable. Have your fun. Think of it as payment for a battle well won." The soldiers moved forward and Sierra braced herself for the fight. She'd take as many of them down as she could. She'd make sure Darius remembered this moment for the rest of his worthless life. But there were too many of them and she was too tired, too hurt and too broken already. They swarmed her, ripping the sword from her hands. She fought anyway, clawing and biting like a wild animal, but they were fresh and she was half-dead. Within seconds they had her on the ground, face pressed into the blood-soaked dirt, arms wrenched behind her back. She felt the cold bite of chains around her wrists. Heavy iron that locked with a click that sounded like the end of everything. "There we go. Much better." Darius's boots appeared in her line of sight. He crouched down so he could look her in the face. "You know what the best part is? The Alpha King wanted to know everything about you. Your fighting style, your strategies, sure. But also the personal stuff. Your weaknesses. Your fears. What you look like when you're vulnerable." Sierra tried to spit at him but someone's hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back at a painful angle. "I told him everything, Sierra. Every private moment we shared. Every intimate detail." Darius's voice dropped lower, more poisonous. "I told him about that scar on your left hip that you hate. About how you're self-conscious of your breasts, think they're too small. About that thing you do when you're nervous, that little tell with your hand. I sold every secret you ever trusted me with." Tears of pure rage burned in her eyes. "I hope you choke on your silver."