The other noblemen lose their nerve. They scatter, chains clacking loudly, and bolt for the edge of the arena. They skid to a halt at the raised guns of the Karensan soldiers. Trapped.

The first Ghost shrieks, and with it, the others raise their heads too. My fingers turn white as my fists curl. Every bit of my strength goes to slowing the beating of my heart, until the strain of holding back my fury feels like it might break me.

This will happen quickly.

The first Ghost lunges toward them. Its speed belies its size—in a matter of seconds, it’s reached one of the two Strikers.

Sana hops to one side. Her hands still grapple instinctively for the weapons that normally hang at her hips, but they find only air. She ducks low as the Ghost snaps its jaws at her, then rolls under the creature and tries to jump on its back.

But she has no weapons except her hands, useless for tearing at a Ghost’s neck, and prison has weakened her reflexes. Before she can make it onto the monster’s back, the Ghost whirls around and snaps its jaws at her again. This time, its teeth find her leg.

Even now, as it bites down hard, Sana makes no sound. Our training runs deep. She opens her mouth in a silent grimace as it flings her halfway across the floor.

I flinch. The still surface of my emotions ripples. I see Corian in his final moments, lips turning blue, signing for me to end his life.

Stop this, I snap at Constantine through our bond.

Why should I? the Premier replies coldly.

Those were Strikers. Make them useful soldiers for you.

My Ghosts are my soldiers.

When I look at Constantine, I see an expression of steel. He watches the scene with a bitter determination churning in his heart, something that feels almost vengeful.

The rage coursing through me stretches tight against my efforts to tamp it down. On the floor, one of the noblemen tries sinking his teeth into a Ghost’s neck as the creature picks him up. But then a second Ghost is upon him, and he disappears from sight as its jaws clamp down on his shoulder. Eres stays where he is until a Ghost tears through his neck. And the rebel leader who had spoken her defiance stares down the Ghost that finally hurls her off her feet.

The restraint in me snaps. I can hold back no longer. I feel the rush of rage spill from my heart into the cavity of my chest, into my limbs and mind. The wings on my back click, metal scraping against metal, as they unfurl. All I have to do is launch into the air and hurtle into them. I could cut them all to pieces right now, and no one—not even the Premier—could stop me.

“Talin,” Constantine says in a low voice, this time out loud.

But I don’t care. I grit my teeth and feel the strength in my veins. Down in the arena, Sana has already begun her transformation, shivering uncontrollably on the floor, her body contorting in agony, her silence finally giving way to an anguished, inhuman moan.