ALARIC POV
All I could see was red, not even rage anymore but something thicker, heavier, something that swallowed thought and left nothing behind but instinct and the need to tear something apart.
That bastard had escaped.
That bastard was going to die.
That bastard needed to die in my fangs.
My rage and Drake’s weren’t separate anymore, they were twisted together, feeding off each other until there was no line left between where I ended and he began, just one single, violent drive locked on the same target.
The silver was biting into our skin, carving through fur and flesh, burning in a way that should have slowed us down, should have forced caution, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
Not the pain.
Not the damage.
Not the fact that every hit was tearing us open a little mo
