KNOX’S POV
It’s hardly a fight, and more like an extermination. Every wolf that crosses the perimeter I’ve drawn in my mind around Ember’s position dies.
I don’t give warnings. I don’t posture or snarl or give them the chance to retreat.
They came for my woman and that is a death sentence and I deliver it with the cold commitment of a man who has found, for the first time in his life, something worth protecting badly enough to become the thing everyone always feared he was.
Six wolves. Maybe seven.
I lose count because counting requires the part of my brain that’s currently occupied by the sound of Ember whimpering behind me and every whimper is a lash across the part of my conscience that knows I caused this by leaving.
At the final point of the clearing is a face I didn’t think I’d
