Claire’s POV

The blade stopped dead.

I didn’t understand why at first. My hand lay flat against my stomach, my body braced for impact, my wolf too drained to do anything but tremble.

But the strike never landed.

It hovered mere inches from my stomach, locked in place. Then, I heard it—a wet smack hitting the dirt.

I looked down.

Blood poured from a clenched fist.

Fingers were clamped around Chase’s wrist and the dagger’s hilt. The poisoned blade bit deep into the palm holding it back. It was searing his flesh. I watched the dark rot crawl up from the wound.

I raised my eyes.

Damian stood between us....