Micah’s vision tunneled. All he could see was Duche’s smirking face. Roman roared beneath his skin, clawing to the surface. He lunged forward, teeth bared, the shift rolling over him so fast his bones cracked mid-stride.

"Alpha Micah, stand down!"

The Alpha King Gerald’’s voice boomed through the chamber, the command washing over Micah as he stopped just short of tearing Duche’s throat out. His dark eyes swept over Micah, then softened slightly as they fell on Xenia–on the bruises, the raw skin, and the trembling of her hands. His jaw tightened, and when he spoke again, it carried a weight of controlled fury.

"There will be no more cruelty...