Chapter 58

LLOYD

Axel held up his hands, letting his claws grow long, black, and filed to needle points. The electric light caught on the edges, making them gleam like obsidian.

“This is long overdue,” he said, strutting into the circle like he owned it. “A king should never have to share the spotlight with a servant.”

I didn’t respond. Every breath still burned while Vetus was healing my punctured lung. My stance wavered—not out of fear, but because I was running on fumes. Still, I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Deep down, I’d always know I would have to face Axel. A poetic ending of the Sayelle-Moreau bloodline centuries too late.

“You should’ve stayed in the shadows where you belong,” Axel continued, voice slick with arrogance. “That’s what your bloodline was made for. Binding you to the monarchy? That was mercy. You should thank my ancestors for giving you purpose.”

I stayed silent. Let him talk.

“You were a pet project,” he sneered. “Did you really think you belonged on the throne? But don’t worry, I’ll take care of Misty. She’ll bear my pups—even if I have to resort to in vitro fertilization.”

I’d never heard the term before, but I didn’t need a dictionary to figure it out. The image hit like a gut punch—clinical, calculated, and cruel. My hands clenched. My jaw locked. But still, I didn’t rise to it. Not yet. He wanted a reaction. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

We circled each other, the ring of wolves holding their breath. Watching. Waiting.

Axel was shorter, not as broad, but he was still an alpha—arrogant enough to think that meant everything.

He struck first, wide and fast, claws hissing through the air. I ducked just in time, rolled under, and rose behind him. I didn’t hit back. Not yet.

~“Lungs are repaired,”~ Vetus muttered inside me, sounding just as worn as I felt.

It had been an unfortunate injury that slowed me down more than I’d like to admit. But fending off an entire squad under Alpha Command had taken its toll.

I kept one eye on Axel and one on the wolves around us. If he planned to use that trick again, I had to be ready.

He turned with a laugh, sharp and cruel. “What, too tired to hit back? Or are you just now realizing you never should’ve challenged me in the first place?”

He lunged again, faster this time, but I blocked it with my forearm, letting the claws tear skin and muscle. I took the hit to get close.

Then I drove my fist into his jaw.

It wasn’t flashy. It was surgical—deliberate. Axel staggered back, spitting blood and fury, but seconds later, he turned to face me again, a bloody smile stretching across his face.

“That’s it?” he laughed, breathless but cocky. “You know what I think? The curse made you strong, and now you’re just an ordinary wolf. Clueless. Not fit to lead.”

“And you are?” I said, voice like gravel. “Mercenaries recording us? What’s the plan—sell us all out and go play house with the humans?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “You really are clueless,” he said, eyes gleaming. “But to answer your question, a purge was needed. And I don’t plan to stop here. Every pack out there will go through the same process. Burn out the weak. Cut out the traitors. Only the strongest deserve to survive.”

“That means you should be culled first,” I spat, and lunged.

Axel didn’t move. He just stood back and grinned as though he was untouchable.

Movement flared in my peripheral vision as two warriors charged me from either side.

I twisted low to avoid the first strike—claws slicing through the air above my head—then kicked out hard, catching the attacker in the knee. Bone cracked beneath the force, and he crumpled with a snarl of pain.

The second came in fast, teeth bared, and tackled me mid-spin. We hit the ground hard. His weight slammed into my ribs, and I felt something shift inside—bruised or broken, didn’t matter.

I raked my claws across his chest, found purchase, and shoved him off just in time to roll clear of a third strike from the first one, who’d somehow gotten back up.

Breathing raggedly, blood coating my hands, I got to my feet.

Axel’s voice slid across the air, smooth and cold. “Struggling already? Disappointing. I was hoping for more of a show.”

Spitting blood, I stepped closer. “Don’t like getting your hands dirty, do you? Is it because your combat skills are severely lacking?”

“Not much of a challenge,” he growled. “You can barely stand.”

My voice came out low, rough. “You talk too much.”

He roared and lunged, all rage and recklessness.

I was already moving—sidestepping at the last second, driving my claws straight into his ribs. I felt the resistance give. A clean, deep strike. No hesitation.

Axel gasped, stunned.

“I was made for this,” I said, watching him grimace. “You were born into it. That’s the difference.”

He staggered back, and for a heartbeat, I thought I had him—really had him. But then his eyes glazed over, his mouth curled into something feral, and three warriors surged toward me.

If I didn’t finish him now, he’d use every single one of them to rip me apart.

Tanner intercepted two of them, colliding mid-air with bone-crunching force.

And then—

Misty.

She exploded through the crowd like lightning, and Axel’s head snapped up just as she leapt. A flicker of surprise crossed his face—just for a moment—before he grinned.

She hit him full force, wrapping her arms around his neck as she landed on his back, claws digging into his chest as she shouted, “This is for Olivia, you sonofabitch!”

But he was much bigger than her, and with one swift, brutal movement, he grabbed her arm and tore her off him. She hit the ground hard, landing in a crumpled heap on the lawn.

Fury surged through me the moment I saw her flying.

This had to end now.

I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down with me. He flailed but landed a punch to my kidneys, and pain tore through me, but it was nothing like the pain of fighting warriors who had no choice.

Twisting, I straddled him and for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.

“My defeat is yours,” he gurgled as I ripped his throat out.

My vision narrowed. Everything in me went still.

What did he mean?

I looked around, trying to anchor myself. Everything felt surreal—too quiet, too sharp around the edges. Misty was kneeling beside me, her hand firm on my forearm, grounding me.

Around us, warriors were kneeling. Not all, but most.

That’s when the weight hit me—crushing and absolute.

I didn’t know how many had died. I didn’t want to count. But each loss was a hole torn through my chest, jagged and raw.

Tanner came striding up, looking about as wrecked as I felt. His head snapped to the side when he heard a squeal, and then Chelsea pushed through the crowd and threw herself at him. They both went down in a heap.

“Baby,” he grunted in pain, before kissing her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

I forced myself to my feet, the world spinning slightly, and pulled Misty into a tight hug.

“I thought being cursed was the worst day of my life,” I said, my voice rough. “But this takes the number one slot.”

“Really? Why?” she asked, eyes searching mine.

“Because you weren’t with me,” I said quietly. “And I had to trust someone else to look after you.”

I wrapped my arms around her. And truth be told, without her holding me up, I might’ve collapsed again. I had nothing left.

~“You’ll be fine in a bit,”~ Vetus said tiredly. ~“We made it, Lloyd.”~

~“We did,”~ I replied, but the realization didn’t hit till much later.

“Misty, Chelsea. Can you two coordinate and check that every injured wolf is taken to the infirmary?”

Misty frowned, and Chelsea clung tighter to Tanner.

Tanner nodded and gently prized Chelsea off him.

I bent down to kiss Misty’s forehead. “Sorry, this can’t wait.”

She nodded knowingly. She must have heard Axel’s final words.

~My defeat is yours.~

I felt an urgency unlike anything I had ever felt when I surmised what Axel had meant. His death would expose us, and that’s why the mercenaries were recording.

Tanner and I were joined by Adam, who looked a bit pale but was obviously on the mend from injuries.

The dungeon was left untouched—not even the mercenaries had tried to rescue their colleagues.

I surveyed the four prisoners in their cells: three men and one woman. The woman looked the most nervous, her eyes darting between us anxiously.

“Bring her,” I instructed.

Adam restrained her while she struggled, her eyes wide with fear, taking in our bloody appearance.

“Tanner, pass me that knife with the jagged edge,” I requested. “Let’s see how long it takes to remove a finger. Which one, though?”

Tanner fetched the knife and handed it to me. “Her trigger finger, of course,” he smirked.

“Hmm, I don’t know if she’s left-handed or right-handed; we’ll have to remove both. Sorry,” I said, running my finger along the blunt edges. “This may take a while. I don’t think it’s ever been sharpened.”

She started to struggle, and fear shone in her eyes as she looked around wildly.

“Maybe I should just sever it at the wrist,” I said thoughtfully, grabbing her wrist in a lightning-fast move.

“No, no, please. I’ll tell you what I know,” she screamed.

“Don’t,” one of the guys shouted. “They’ll kill us anyway and probably make us into werewolves.”

~“Take over,”~ I linked Tanner. I didn’t have enough knowledge to do the interrogation.

Tanner bent down and looked straight into his eyes. “You’ve been recording, haven’t you? Now tell me where the uploads went?”

I angled the knife and slid the flat of the blade along her arm, and that was all that was necessary for her to talk.

“A server, at Watchglass Initiative.”

I didn’t even have to ask; Adam immediately volunteered. “I’ll take a team and destroy every server we find.”