Harold’s voice was low, like distant thunder, as he pressed the tip of his dagger against Connor’s throat. “Clara’s life must be paid for with your blood.”
Connor was caught off guard. He barely had time to raise his arm in defense before Harold struck again, his attacks relentless as a storm. Blow after blow forced Connor back.
“You promised me,” Harold growled, his voice laced with fury. “You swore you’d give Clara eternal happiness, and because of that promise, I helped you kill your two brothers!”
There was a collective gasp from the crowd.
Connor’s two older brothers had died under mysterious circumstances. For years, their deaths had been called an accident, an unfortunate twist of fate. But now, Harold had shattered that illusion, revealing that Connor had orchestrated their deaths.
“Harold, stop making things up!” Connor barked, desperately dodging another strike.
The next moment, Harold lunged, his claws a deadly arc targeting Connor’s throat. Though he managed to deflect the blow, the force of the attack still cut deep into his shoulder. Blood bloomed across his torn clothing.
Connor dropped to his knees before Harold.
Seeing their Alpha in trouble, his warriors drew their swords, ready to fight Harold and his warriors.
But Harold did not press the attack. I understood why–this was still Connor’s territory.
“Give me Clara’s corpse,” Harold said coldly.
Connor’s eyes widened. “No, that’s impossible! Clara was Blackclaw Pack’s Luna! She must be buried here!”
