I didn’t know when my fingers wrapped around the handle of the whip.
Perhaps it was the silence that filled the courtyard after the prisoner’s screams had faded into weak sobs, or the burning need for answers clawing at my insides like wildfire. Maybe it was the memory of his howl in the night—low, guttural, and haunting—that pulled me toward the edge of my restraint.
My claws retracted with a soft hiss as I exhaled through my nose.
I turned to Riven, my beta. His cold gaze was fixed on the whip in my hand, unreadable but piercing, like he could feel the tug of hesitation storming in me. I didn’t need to speak; I only gave him a nod. A command.
He hesitated, his dark brows furrowing just slightly, his jaw tight. But finally, with a slow step back, he bowed. “As you command, My Queen.”
