Could we take eight?
Vandle was barely standing.
We had to.
As I flew toward the first alpha, knowing I needed to get between them and Vandle, I felt the lights begin to flicker in my mind. Signalling a complete shut down of my sanity.
The world moved in a blur, my aura flaring as I inhaled scents, and saw only in flickering shapes. I was nothing but reactions—my teeth meeting flesh, fist closing around a thick, corded neck.
Pain was real, but it was fuel, each breath the next count. The next beat.
I fought like I never had, flung against metal, scoring agony across my back.
My breath shuddered.
Vandle needed me.
My vision spun violently as I tried to get to my knees. Another blow, and I was down.
Shit.
Reality slammed in for a moment.
I couldn’t… I had to… I blinked. I couldn’t go so far there was no way back.
I’d lose her.
Lose him.
Crescent’s golden eyes flashed in my vision, followed by crimson.
I didn’t… want to forget them.
I tried to figure out what was happening.
I had to fightandkeep my sanity…
I was on the stone ground.
Too vulnerable. I grabbed the bars, trying to haul myself up enough. I got to my knees before I felt a hand grip my shirt. My elbow flew out, catching something hard, and I heard a grunt.
Then I saw a figure in the lit doorway to the dim room.
He was… familiar, I thought. He came into focus and I found myself locking eyes with my cage-fighting rival.
Ozias?
Was he with the Wakefield pack?
I was wrenched back and had to turn as another alpha lunged at me.
Shit.
But could Ozias get help?
From who, though…?
The Leo pack flashed in my mind. Dead in the gym. Their omega fleeing. Their allies watching on, not willing to take the risk for a pack who would be gone within hours either way.