Chapter 3 - The Breaking Point
The air in the suite turned freezing cold as the storm outside collided with the unnatural drop in temperature radiating from Kane’s body. The silver poison in his veins was reacting to the proximity of Marcus Vance’s electronic surveillance signal—a frequency hidden inside the walls that had been deliberately activated to push the Alpha King over the edge.
Harper stood her ground, her boots planted on the rug just feet away from the thrashing Alpha. Every instinct screamed at her to run for the panic button, to throw open the doors and let the medical attendants flood in with their tranquilizers.
If they tranquilized him now, Marcus Vance would win.
“Kane, look at me!” Harper shouted over his ragged, animalistic breathing.
He lunged forward with terrifying speed, pinning her wrists against the cold glass of the balcony doors. His fingers clamped around her arms like iron vises, and his face hovered inches from hers. She could feel the searing heat radiating from his skin, smelling the metallic scent of ozone and tormented blood.
“You don't know what I am,” Kane snarled, spittle flying from his lips, his fangs elongating painfully against his gums. “I am a monster. I killed my own uncle when this sickness took hold. I destroyed three packs who crossed me. You stay here one more minute, and you’ll be number four!”
“Then kill me,” Harper whispered fiercely, her eyes locking onto his golden depths without a shred of fear.
Kane stopped. The pressure of his grip didn't loosen, but his breath caught in his throat.
“What did you say?”
“I said, if you’re a monster, then do it,” Harper repeated, her voice steady, though her heart hammered like a trapped bird. “Tear me apart. End my father’s debt, end my pack’s misery, and give Marcus Vance the corpse he paid for. Because if you don't, you’re going to listen to me.”
Kane’s chest rose and fell rapidly. The feral intelligence behind his eyes flickered, fighting violently against the chemical haze. “You’re insane.”
“No,” Harper said, her voice dropping into a fierce, pleading softness. “I’m exhausted. Just like you. Marcus Vance is outside this estate right now with a tribunal order ready to strip your throne, and he used my father to do it. We are both being hunted by the same men, Kane.”
A low, vibrating growl rumbled in Kane’s chest, but the lethal tension in his muscles began to slacken. The sheer willpower required for him to suppress the wolf was staggering. Slowly, agonizingly, his hands unclasped from her wrists, leaving red impressions on her skin.
He staggered backward, crashing heavily against the edge of the stone hearth, sliding down until he sat flat on the floor, breathing in ragged gasps.
Harper didn't run. She walked over, knelt down beside the most feared man in the Pacific Northwest, and pulled a clean linen handkerchief from her pocket, gently pressing it against the bleeding cut on his temple where he had struck the table.
May you like
“Why aren't you running?” Kane muttered, his voice barely audible above the storm.
“Because running never saved anyone in my family,” Harper replied softly, holding the cloth against his skin. “And for the first time in my life, I want to stand and fight.”
