Chapter 0159

My mother's agonized wail shatters the air. The sound claws at my soul, raw and broken from losing her mate. But grief is a luxury I can't afford right now.

She's defenseless in this state. Freshly widowed werewolves rarely survive their mate's death. So I move before the vampires do.

Father trained me well, but these aren't practice dummies. Vampires blur where wolves thunder. Faster. Deadlier. Valeria tears through them beside me, snapping necks and crushing hearts with Guardian strength. Still not fast enough.

"WOLF!"

The shout makes my blood freeze. The lead vampire - Malachi - has my mother. Her human form stands limp in his grip, eyes vacant with sorrow. She's already halfway to joining Father in death.

But not like this.

Malachi presses against her back, fingers curled around her throat. His crimson eyes lock onto me over her shoulder. "Little Guardian. Keep slaughtering my kin, and I'll snap her neck now."

I bare my teeth. His earlier threat still rings in my ears - he plans to kill us all regardless.

His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "Ah, you're right. She dies either way." He raises a staying hand as I tense to spring. "But..." He gestures to Silas slinking closer. "Stop fighting, and I won't let him play with her first."

Silas licks his fangs, gaze crawling over my mother's body. Malachi nuzzles her ear. "Silas enjoys...creative ways to make prey scream. You wouldn't want her last moments filled with that kind of pain, would you?"

'Valeria?'

'Too many. Can't reach her in time.'

I shift back. Human hands raise in surrender. Mother's eyes focus briefly, her weak head shake barely noticeable against Malachi's grip.

"Wise choice."

Then he rips her head clean off.

My scream echoes through the trees as her body crumples. I collapse to my knees. Orphaned. Alone. The last Sinclair about to die in these cursed woods.

Malachi saunters over. "I promised Silas wouldn't touch her. Never said I'd spare her." He fists my hair, wrenching my head up. "Now...what exactly are you?"

Confusion cuts through my grief. He saw me shift!

Then his nostrils flare. A fang slices my finger. When my blood touches his tongue, his pupils blow wide with unholy rapture. "Custos regni," he breathes like a prayer.

Silver cuffs snap around my wrists before I can react. "Prince Damien will reward me well for you." More shackles clamp my ankles as I'm tossed over his shoulder.

The last thing I see are my parents' broken bodies staining the forest floor.