DRAVEN
"You're a leech," Wren whispered. "A parasite. And now your blood will be spilled just like you spilled hers."
"Wren," I choked out, my voice barely audible. "You can't do this. You're not like Circe. You're like Althea. You're kind. You're—"
"Fuck that" Wren interrupted, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "Pieces of shit don't deserve it."
The blade pressed harder against my throat and I felt the skin begin to part, felt the silver sinking deeper into flesh.
Visceral terror flooded every nerve in my body. My wolf screamed inside my head, clawing desperately to get out, to shift, to save us. But my body wouldn't respond. It was locked in place by fear so complete it had paralyzed me.
I couldn't die like this, not when Althea was still out there, still breathing, still alive somewhere beyond my reach.
"Please," I whispered, hating how pathetic I sounded. "Please don't do this."
