MAETHYS POV
I flinched at his hot breath.
His grip tightened in response, like he’d been waiting for it.
“Pretty thing,” he murmured, and the word pretty felt like a knife dragged dull over skin. “Not so tough now, are you?”
I wanted to spit in his face.
I wanted to bite.
I wanted to shift—break my bones into something with claws and teeth and no mercy.
But the iron burned against my wrist, and my wolf stayed trapped behind my ribs like it was caged inside me, too.
Zakael laughed again, then lifted his head so everyone could hear.
“She’s supposed to be important,” he said, mockery dripping off every syllable. “Special little bloodline. Special little heir. And still—”
He jostled me, hard enough that my teeth clicked together.
“—still a wolf.”
The word wolf came out like scum.
