I wanted to scream.

Watching the cluster of shapes swallowing Scarlet from view, her quietly obedient steps taking her farther and farther away from me, that terror-stricken heart of mine urged me to run after her, shout at her to stop.

Come back.

I could do nothing with the clawed hand around my neck leaving no vowel of sound siphon out but a choking gurgle of protest.

"D-do you understand how weak you are, p-pretty boy?" His speech had become nearly human during the time of his absence—the time they stayed away.

Giving me a condescending look, one that matched the tone of his voice, Ashwin nodded at his beasts holding me on both sides and they shoved me a step toward him. Perhaps he was right and I was weak, or perhaps it was just that he had help and I was on my own now in that show of strength similar to the violent one enfolding bare meters from where we stood.

Helpless and at the mercy of a merciless creature, Oracle was screaming. Leila's last blow had incapacitated her enough to halt her struggles and now she was on the receiving end of more hits pounding down one after another, her pleading voice—her last defense.

Looking farther, I could see my wolves dying with their last howls parting their muzzles before they fell lifeless – some soulless—on black concrete.

Circling around Leila's guards, Michael and his vampires were nothing but blurred shapes at the edges of my vision that tried to outrun while landing a few blows to the surrounding soulless destiny.

Scarlet was completely gone now that the crowd had aligned back in formation.

Only the battle and the anger-pregnant clouds remained, the latter—hanging above our heads as the storm hit the land below with its greatest magnitude.

Wearing a black cloak and a scythe, the coming storm was nothing compared to the cataclysm that was already here—to reap the lives of my packmates.

Take the soul of the pack.

Where did a wolf' soul go when it wasn't taken by them?

The wolves were never going to find out. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not in a million years.

The soulless' mistress raised her head. Her body uplifted itself from Oracle who was now laying motionless on the ground—bleeding out as her skin turned a shade paler with every second that flew by.

Seconds of lives lost—lives taken.

I was a failure.

"Can you see now how much stronger than what you expected we are, dog? Stronger than thousands of you." Ashwin taunted, rotten breath blowing in my face that had my stomach roll in disgust.

I wanted to vomit.

"Turn and look," he said, digging his claws deeper so they were puncturing the skin on my neck as his other hand connected with my temple in a hard slap.

His wildlings remained—each one having a hand clasped over my elbows, just slightly shifting away before taking his next nod as a sign to start tugging me to turn back and see.

They didn't need to do any of it since I already knew that I had to take in and count the losses with my own eyes, yet, despite the awareness of responsibility, I hesitated.

Just a moment to brace myself before I swung around, his beasts following the motion of my body almost having me think they were so in tune with everything going on around them, they could sense the slightest shift of movement before it happened.

But then, before I could even consider the complications of the suspicion, or what it meant if they could do that, images bombarded me.

Bodies, some human from the transition taking place moments before the last spark of life left the flesh, others—still in their wolf forms, were spread everywhere my gaze would travel.

Lives lost. Souls ripped.

Shells.

Even with our greater numbers, we were still no match for them—still losing more than we ever thought we'd have to lose.

Perhaps, we could have taken on the wildlings if it was just them to fight, but the soulless creatures were not something we could fight with teeth and claws.

Untouchable.

It felt like a miracle to have more than half of the men still standing, still fighting, still trying to fend them off as they did—desperately.

Leaning closer, "Do you understand now, Apex?" Ashwin sneered in my ear.

Closing my eyes to stop reality from taking a hold of me, I nodded my head.

It was crystal clear, and so were the images—remaining as if they had been sealed into my retinas.

Men. Wolves. With their limbs twisted in odd angles, skin nearly flailed, fur saturated in red, eyes frozen open, faces reflecting the fear they felt before they fell.

My pack.

"You can't do anything to stop t-them, Regan." His voice took a gentle note, the expression on that familiar yet changed face one of sadness and regret.

I frowned, wondering where the gentle man I once knew came from, and then he was suddenly back to being the stranger—a wildling to the bone when he said, "Plead for your and your mate's life and she might show you mercy, however, I doubt you'd like her mercy any better." He chuckled, swinging back on the balls of his feet.

Body straightening, spine strung up, muscles bulging back to their grotesque size, his gaze changed directions and he looked at something behind me.

A moment later, I heard her—heels clicking against the asphalt, and then I saw her.

Leila looked radiant. Face illuminated by the knowledge of her victory, gait merry and confident, hands clasped at her hips, her eyes gazed at me with expectation.

The Moon rested clouded in darkness above us, but this woman was shining brightly all the same, almost convincing me it was not just her but the lives—souls—she had taken that had their light soaking the skin of the reaper.

"So..." Leila drew out. "I believe my pet wildling brought you up to speed, no?" she said as slowly as if she was speaking to a child. Her right hand unglued from her side to point at the ground before her.

"It's time, Regan. Kneel!" she commanded with a twitch of her hand.

Painstakingly slow seconds trickled. The silence stretched for so long the tension reached a boiling degree. Winter's cold air turned sweltering and barely breathable as each and every eye remained my way.

The battle was paused as everyone held breath and waited.

Was I going to bend in front of this woman or to choose eternal doom for all of us?

It all circled back to this moment, this choice.

A choice that was not a choice.

"Kneel and you will save more than your own pitiful life tonight, Regan," she coerced softly, nodding at the wildlings holding me still.

Deformed hands retreating back where they belonged—to their gruesomely morphed bodies, they let go and stepped a safe distance away from the king to fall.

"What about my mate? Will you spare her if I kneel in front of you?" I asked.

Be strong! Scarlet' shout boomed into the pack bond, bringing promise and hope that started me out of my stupor.

My eyes sought the vampire only to find him held captive by a group of wildlings, his own men incapacitated around him like puppets bound by hand-strings.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it happened.

The pack answered the call of their Luna with their own frightening songs. Michael ripped himself off his captors, body flying faster than my eyes could track.

Leila's form planted face first on the ground, Michael's spur of a shape colliding with hers.

I ran.

We all did.

Toward our Luna.

The soulless dispersed off our path.

Leila's laughter and screams followed our steps.

"She's right where I want her to be! She won't kill me! Nothing and no one will!"

A moment later, I knew exactly why.

Holding Lucas' hands with her own, with soulless all around, Scarlet was at the epicenter.

Helpless to even notice the creatures that guarded her.

"Let's see how far she's gonna get before he catches her, shall we?" Leila chuckled, announcing her presence.

Her slow-paced steps carried her closer to where I was, a carefree expression on her face now that she'd showed me the true extent of her guile.

"But first things first. Bring out the traitor..." She paused. "No, actually, give me his mate and get my pet here to watch. I need to teach him a lesson." She never said who she was talking about, but not a second later, the group of soulless around Scarlet and Lucas parted to let two of their own pass as they led a person toward their mistress.

It was one of the hybrids—Adam, and as soon as he was thrown at Leila's feet, two more of the soulless brought out Cole, halting him a safe distance from her but still close enough to watch.

"And you, Regan,"—She glanced at me.—"don't try anything funny. In fact, don't do anything. Both you and your people. Understood?"

I nodded.

There was truly nothing we could do now.

"On second thought, you can scream," she added with a frightening smile.