After the war, London is in chaos.
Packs are battling it out for dominance in the streets, lycans are killing each other in illegal fight dens. The Royals are being murdered.
All Juliet wants to do is forget - forget Sebastien, forget the wa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My fingers dug into the edge of the desk.
I could feel the wood splintering beneath my nails and my bones trembling under the surface of my skin, the urge to phase growing stronger with each second. The taste of Michael's blood lingered on my teeth as the gravity of what just happened — that I'd screwed up, that I'd failed to beat him — began to sink in, and I could almost hear Theo's voice taunting me. "How are you going to protect me now?"
Michael brought his free hand to his mouth and whistled loudly, his eyes still locked on mine.
A second later, I heard the door fly open. I wanted to look behind me and size up the new threat, but with the barrel of the gun still digging into my stomach, I was afraid to chance taking my eyes off Michael. The scent that followed their arrival was distinctly lycan, female, and layered with jasmine... and something else.
Michael?
"What's up?" The voice was husky, feminine — and if she was surprised by my presence, she didn't sound like it.
"Escort our guest —" Michael jerked his head at me, his voice icy cold. "— out of here. Have Thomas take her to the river, and then call Paul in. I need to have a word with him."
He pulled the gun away then and I slid swiftly off the table, backing away from him.
My eyes flickered in the direction of the girl. She was eighteen, maybe, and though her build was muscular, she didn't seem like a fighter. Her eyes were lined heavily with kohl and her long, strawberry blonde hair was loose around her shoulders. Unlike the practical combat boots I wore, hers were heeled, pushing her height slightly above mine, and a tattoo of a small, black rose snaked across her collarbone.
Her expression was cool as she sized me up, her eyes lingering on the blood I could feel staining my lips.
When she reached for me, I eluded her grasp. "I can walk myself out."
The corners of her mouth curled in a smile. I followed her to the door, the urge to phase slowly fading from my system. Instead, I just felt — frustrated. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, my heart rate flying higher than normal, and I wanted to destroy something.
One job, Juliet, I thought self-deprecatingly, and you can't even do that right.
"Juliet?"
I froze on the threshold to his office, my eyes staring straight ahead.
"If I catch you on my territory again," he said icily, "I will kill you."
His words shouldn't have hurt me. This Michael was a stranger to me — he was cold and hostile, and a coward — but an echo of who he'd been once lingered in the air, like the imprint of perfume on a pillow.
