Alaric’s POV
The stone was crushing me. But all I could hear was her screaming my name.
“ALARIC!”
My wolf’s ribs cracked. Blood ran down my muzzle, hot and metallic, dripping onto the floor of a temple built to worship gods who never answered.
I was holding up a ceiling made to kill.
Vincent’s laugh still echoed off the walls. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance. Now you’ll watch her father die. Just like you watched yours.”
The spikes were ten feet above Cleric.Ten feet above her.
Because she hadn’t run.
Hazel stood in the center of the chamber, dagger in her hand, staring up at the death Vincent designed for us. Her face was white. Her hands were shaking.
But she hadn’t run.
“Dominic,” I snarled, blood foaming between my teeth. “Get her out. Now.”
“I’m
