Inside William, the wild’s jaws had opened a crack. He caught a glimpse of its fangs, shining and white like the surface of a glacier. He was losing. The rending was coming.

Erian jerked a short, curved knife from the sheath on his belt. A moment stretched into an eternity. Another …

The wild opened its mouth. Bottomless blackness gaped in its maw, guarded by icy fangs. He stared straight into it.

The wild bit at him. The fangs pierced his mind. The wild swallowed. Darkness engulfed him.

The world slowed to a crawl. William walked into the field.

Behind him Kaldar screamed. William paid him no mind.

Another kick rocked the bars and the whole grate came loose and clattered to the ground. A dark-haired woman leaped out of the window. She took two steps and crashed down as a bolt sprouted from her throat.

The Sheerile mercenaries fled from the house, spilling from the window and doors, charging across the clearing. William snarled and lunged at them.

A man hurled himself at him, knife raised. Too slow. William swayed away from the glittering metal arc of the striking blade, sliced the man’s armpit, jerked him to the side, cut his throat, and kept moving. A woman lunged from the left. William disemboweled her with a precise slash, stepped over her body, and kept moving. He killed again and again, knowing that nothing short of shedding his skin and biting into living flesh would satisfy him. He had to settle for what he had. Steel rang around him, punctured by isolated shots. He glided through the air thick with metallic blood stench on soft wolf paws, removing obstacles in his path.

The world dissolved into blackness and blood.

CERISE saw William sprint across the field. Her mind took a second to comprehend it, and by the time she understood what was happening, he’d swung his knife, quicker than the eye could see. Arterial spray wet the ground, bright, vivid red. The Sheeriles’ man fell to his knees, but William had already gone on to his next victim.

He killed the woman in an instant, didn’t even pause, and when he turned to strike at the next man in his path, she saw his eyes, hot like two chunks of molten amber.

“Stay back!” she barked. “Stay away from him.”

He cut and sliced, raging across the field like a demon, killing with brutal, precise savagery. As if a mad tiger had got loose amid a herd of helpless prey. Fast, tireless, deadly.

A shot rang out. William jerked. Her heart skipped a beat.

William swiped a knife from a fallen opponent, whipped about, and hurled it. The blade sliced through the narrow space between the bars on the second-floor window. A woman sagged against the bars and tumbled down, a knife in her throat.

William grinned, baring his teeth, and kept killing.

Chill bumps marked her arms.

Around her, people stood up to get a better look. Nobody said a word. The family just stood and watched in horrified silence.

So that was what he kept chained inside.

“He’s insane,” Richard said next to her.

“I know,” she told him. “He held it in all this time. He’s unbelievable, isn’t he?”

Richard stared at her for a long moment and raised his eyes to the sky. “What are all of you doing up there? You’ve lost your minds.”

“WILLIAM?”

The girl. Her voice, floating into his mind. Her scent swirling about him, filtering through the scents of hot blood

Cerise. Calling him.

William clawed through the blood-soaked fog.

Her hand touched him. He grabbed her and pulled her to him. His vision snapped into crystal clarity, and he saw her and his hands, gripping her shoulders. His fingers were covered with blood.

Cerise smiled at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Her fingers stroked his cheek. “Are you back with us?”

“I never left.”

He noticed her family now. They had surrounded him in a ragged circle, clutching crossbows and rifles. The field was strewn with corpses. He’d run out of people to kill.

The pressure inside him had eased. He needed more, more blood, more enemies to drain the heated strain in his muscles, but Cerise needed him and what he had done would have to be enough for now.

“I’m going to fight Lagar now,” she told him. “Will you watch?”

He let her go and nodded.

Cerise walked to the porch. The sun glinted from the sword in her hand.

William sat in the grass.

Richard sat on one side of him, Kaldar landed on the other.

“Murid has her rifle trained on your head. If you interfere, she’ll splatter your brains right on these nice weeds over here,” Kaldar said. “Just thought you should know.”

“It’s good to know,” William said. His body cooled slowly. Fatigue mugged him. They were fools. It was her fight. If he interfered, she would never forgive him.

If Cerise faltered, he would end up watching her die. The thought made the wild inside him howl, but one didn’t stand between a wolf and her prey.

“How often can you do that?” Richard indicated the corpses with a sweep of his hand.

“Not often.”

“It’s over, Lagar,” Cerise called. “Come out. Let’s finish this.”

A quiet descended on the clearing.

The screen door banged. A man stepped out into the sunshine. He wore a blue robe that reached to his knees. The left sleeve hung in tatters. Lagar shrugged off the other sleeve, letting the robe hang at his waist. He swung his sword. Cords of muscle rolled on his bare chest and arms.

What did she see in him? He was tall, well-built. Handsome enough. Pale hair, blue eyes. They were enemies, but he got Cerise to dance with him. Was he charming? Did he know the right things to say?

They paced from side to side, stretching, keeping their distance. Lagar flexed. Veins bulged on his arms. “How come we never got together, Cerise?”

She looked small compared to him. That made for a smaller target, and she was fast, but Lagar was stronger. He’d muscle her and she didn’t have the weight to counter. “I don’t know, Lagar. Killing my relatives and kidnapping my parents might have something to do with it.”

Lagar stopped. Cerise stopped also.

His flash burst from Lagar’s eyes in a torrent of brilliant white. It ran down his hand onto his sword.

Shit.

“Too bad it turned out this way,” Lagar said.

Cerise’s magic slid along her sword. “We both knew it would,” she replied.

Lagar charged, fast like a changeling. Cerise parried, her movements flowing as if her joints were liquid. The two blades crashed against each other, sparking with magic. They danced across the clearing, flashing and thrusting. Steel rang, magic shone.

Cerise pulled back and so did Lagar. For a long breath they stood still, poised like two cats before a fight, and then Lagar moved, stalking Cerise across the grass, his sword pointing straight up. Cerise followed, her blade loose in her fingers, stepping on her toes.

Lagar ran. She matched him. He leapt and struck from above in an overhead blow, banking on his superior strength. They clashed in a blinding burst of magic and broke apart, facing each other.

The scent of blood lashed William’s nostrils.

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