A raw surge of grim satisfaction shot through me, swiftly replaced by panic as a drop of Savannah's blood, still clinging to the King's massive grip on my backpack, splashed onto my neck. I immediately tore my eyes away from his, desperate not to provoke him further, only to have my gaze fall on the brutalized body of the Alpha.
Alpha Dalton’s throat had been savagely ripped out, and he lay lifeless on the ground, his mate sobbing hysterically over him. My first instinct, an outdated reflex, was to find Rhoan and make sure he was safe. His father had just been murdered; he was now the Alpha. But I violently crushed that impulse. It wasn't my responsibility anymore. He had Lyra. His Luna.
The King let out another seismic growl, a sound that made me want to curl into a tiny ball and disapp
