Strange, pale things crawled out of the earth and clawed toward the light. Magic filled the air as an army of witches broke down Aphelion's defenses.
Wolves swarmed.
The scent of blood was in the air as all hell broke loose.
As he tore through the battle, he caught sight of Westwood.
They'd gotten some kind of collar around her throat that blocked her magic, but it didn't matter. The earth split open and the Goblin King himself came to fight for his queen.
Each place where one of the dead things crawled forth, a goblin followed with gnashing teeth and tearing claws.
Parker knew the next wolf that came for him.
They'd been friends in boarding school. The best of friends. Memories shot like a movie reel through his mind in quick succession.
He and Markus hiding in the secret passages from the headmaster, who probably knew they were there all along.
Sneaking out to run to the town to meet those pretty girls from the yacht club.
Staying up all night studying for that Latin test that saved both of their GPAs.
When his mother had been killed by a hunter.
How on the night before graduation, they'd taken blades to their palms and swore a bond of brotherhood and sealed it in blood.
But none of that mattered to him. It would scar a place in his heart, but when it was weighed against all he was fighting for, it was next to nothing.
When Markus jumped, Parker did not hesitate to drive his claws up into the other wolf and gut him from belly to sternum.
Something he shouldn’t have been able to do so easily.
It was the mating bond with Belle.
It had to be what had made him stronger.
Or maybe it was his own belief in himself?
His eyes tracked Belle, and she was fighting like the rest of them, but she was exquisite. She tore through the flesh and blood of all comers as if it was what she'd been made for, and perhaps she had. She was the perfect predator.
The perfect killer.
She did not need him.
That was when he was grateful for his non-Alpha status.
An Alpha couldn't live with a mate who didn't need him, but Parker? He had no problem with it. He kept thinking he had to be more, but he didn't. He was enough because she was more.
Her eyes met his through a red hazy mist. She'd changed, not just by acknowledging her beast, but physically. It was as if she'd grown larger, her teeth sharper, and there were more of them.
He found this incarnation of her beautiful, too.
He smiled at her even as the red began to cover her eyes. His smile seemed to make her fight harder, more fiercly.
Tirigan battled as well, ripping through the other vampires that had dared to come stand against him. He moved through them as if he were all blade, and they were nothing but soft butter.
He found Randi, Emmie, and Drew, they were each holding their own. Even Maribella fought, wielding the special weapons David had in his arsenal.
But that was when he saw Blake.
Grigori Remus had led the charge himself.
He had Blake surrounded by wolves, a makeshift fighting pit.
The dragons rained fire down from above in wave after calculated wave, crisping those strange zombie creatures to dust.
Warner transformed into his warrior form and launched himself inside the ring with Grigori and Blake.
Parker fought his way over to them. The slashes and bites, the claws and talons, he felt none of it. He was aware when his body took damage, but it all seemed secondary.
He had to get to his brother.
Grigori wouldn't fight fair and Parker wasn't going to let them go it alone.
Tirigan was suddenly in front of him. "What are you doing, boy?"
"Going to my brother."
"Remus will tear you limb from limb."
"It'll be three of us against him. Four when Drew makes his way over," he managed in a deep voice.
"He'll an ancient Alpha. A progenitor."
Parker knew what that meant, but he couldn't let that matter. "I know."
"Will you allow me to stand for Woolven?"
"That's not up to me."
"Do I have your permission to speak with your brother?"
"This isn't—"
"But it is my fight. My murder is on the way here as we speak. You are my daughter's chosen. And I owe you."
"You owe me nothing."
"Yes, that's how I'd like it."
Parker gutted another one of those strange zombie-like things the dragonfire hadn't obliterated. Tirigan did the same to a nearby witch.
Warner's howl was long, and loud and it rent the battle like nothing else. It wasn't the sound of a victory.
It was the harbinger of death.
His own.
Parker leaped into the middle of the makeshift ring, and saw that Grigori Remus had ripped out his uncle's throat.
He'd never minded blood.
It had never upset or bothered him.
He'd been too small to remember his parents' deaths.
But now, with Warner on his back and all that bright red spilling out into the earth, it turned his stomach. Twisted up his guts.