Perry's POV
Marco materialized from the shadows like a ghost, clutching my unconscious mate against his chest. Two Valerium warriors flanked him—the same cowards who had fled earlier when the real fighting began, only to slink back once they spotted Marco with the queen.
Phoebe hung limp in his grasp, her head lolling against his shoulder. The steady rise and fall of her chest was the only thing preventing me from painting the forest red with their blood.
But those bruises around her throat... those purple fingerprints on her pale skin made my vision blur with murderous intent.
Without her wolf, Phoebe healed like any fragile human. Those marks would linger for days, a constant reminder of how they'd touched what belonged to me.
Every person present could sense the lethal rage radiating from my body like heat from a forge. The air itself seemed to thicken with violence.
