Hot tears streamed down my face. “Don’t you dare give up on me,” I said angrily.

He laughed. “You want me to fight you? Only my wolf will do it, because I’ll never lay a goddamn hand on you.”

“You have a family. You can’t do this to them.”

“Are you saying my life is worth more than yours?” He shook his head. “Are we really fighting over who lives and who dies? Naya, let me do this. It’ll be the only noble thing I’ve ever done in my worthless life.”

“Bullshit,” I spat. “You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“We don’t have time to argue. Shift before it’s too late!”

The lights flickered. I slammed my eyes shut and bent forward with my hands covering my face. My hair created a dark veil, and I heard the crackling of the strobe like snaps of electricity. When it ceased, I slowly raised my head and peered through my hair.

In front of me stood a brown wolf—just like Ben’s. His eyes flashed briefly toward the bars around us, and then he pulled in a scent. That’s when his lips peeled back, revealing his sharp canines. I sat back on my legs and readied myself for him to lunge at my throat.

I was ready to die for Wheeler, and I didn’t feel any fear. The wolf took a step forward, his brow angled in an angry slash as if he had a frown. His eyes were wide and full of fight. I’d never seen anything more terrible and beautiful all at once.

Slobber dripped off one of his fangs, and a low growl rose in his chest until it cut off with a ferocious snarl. Wheeler lunged.

“I trust you.”

Chapter 23

Wheeler’s massive wolf knocked me onto my back. We were both willing to die for each other, and that’s when I knew he loved me back. Maybe I’d never be the woman who found out that kind of devotion by way of candy, roses, or a candlelight dinner, but having a man willing to die for me was the most resounding declaration of love imaginable.

Terrible snarls and growls erupted from Wheeler’s wolf as he hovered over me, shaking me by the neck.

But his teeth hadn’t punctured my skin. Somehow, Wheeler was still in control. I lay beneath him in disbelief that a wolf could be this tactical. I gripped the sides of his fur, buried beneath the weight of him. My hair tangled everywhere—in my face, around my neck, and even in his mouth.

Shouts erupted from the crowd—no—cheering. They would never believe this without seeing blood. All those manicures had finally paid off. I reached up with my sharp nails and dug hard into the flesh of my neck until it drew blood.

Now the wolf had blood in his mouth. I didn’t know how this would end, and I honestly didn’t care. I just wanted it to be over one way or the other. The wolf thrashed, his teeth touching my neck painfully, but not puncturing the skin. Then he lifted his neck and I saw blood around his jowls—my blood.