He was so very big. Even with a good fifteen paces between them, Claire had the impression that all he needed to do was reach out to drag her back to hell.

Though she was afraid to look his way, though she kept her attention anchored in the vibrant blue of Jules’ stare, Claire’s words were for Shepherd. “If I thought I possessed the skill to aim and be certain a bullet blew right through your skull, I would not hesitate to shoot you. But I’ve told you before, I’m not stupid. Pointed where it is, I don’t have to worry about missing.”

Shepherd took a step closer; Claire stiffened.

Showing her teeth, she forced herself to look at him. “Your approach is making it very tempting to pull the trigger. If I die, your child dies with me. Stop. Moving.”

With her attention on him, Shepherd paused, guiding the conversation as if they were having an afternoon chat. “It is good to see that you are mostly uninjured from the fall, and that you have been eating.”

“I didn’t fall, I jumped.” Claire lifted her chin higher, exposing the bruises blotched across her pale throat for every last Follower to see.

Only with some great effort was Shepherd able to speak levelly. “You have made your point. I will even admit I am impressed with your little coup. But it’s over now.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think!”

A stifled bark came from the Alpha, his mouth curved into a snarl. “I know you are angry—”

Her voice dropped low, coarse as she hissed through clenched teeth, “Angry does not even begin to describe what I am. I have been defiled, manipulated, betrayed, and broken. I am way past angry.”

“Everything that was done was necessary,” Shepherd countered, taking another intimidating step closer.

“You may have had me for a moment there, but your woman opened my eyes to what you really are.” Fierce, Claire’s lip curled in threat. “I should be thanking you, Shepherd. Your horrible lesson of insurrection was an inspiration. You taught me that even the weakest can rise up against tyranny with the right encouragement. Well, I’m rising up against you and the perversion of your ideals.”

She had stood there long enough.

Trembling so hard she was certain every last man there could see her fear, ready to do what she did best, Claire took a backwards step into the smoke.

Shepherd countered, struggling to rein in his rage. “Do not make me come and collect you, little one. You may get injured, and I would prefer that not be the case.”

“What are a few broken bones and a potential gunshot or two?” She pressed her free hand to her heart, Claire’s face the image of anguish. “They wouldn’t matter. I feel nothing. Nothing at all.”