Chapter 65
ELENA
The hallway roared around me–screams and the thunder of boots echoing off polished stone as Logan yanked me after him, his grip vice–tight around my wrist. My high heels slid and stuttered over the rubble that had spilled out of the restaurant, and the air around
us smelled like smoke.
And blood.
“Come on!” he barked, not looking back.
We tore through the halls of the summit venue, the restaurant explosion already distant
behind us. Dust clung to the air, thick and acrid. My ears rang from the blast. Somewhere behind us, someone was crying.
“Where are we going?” I shouted.
“To the hotel wing. You’re going to your room, locking the door, and staying there.”
My feet stumbled as I pulled back. “Logan-”
There were people hurt and I could be back there helping them.
Logan didn’t even slow. He knew what I was thinking. “Absolutely not,” he said, pulling on me once more. “You are not a fighter, Elena.”
That stopped me.
I yanked my hand free. “Excuse me?”
His jaw flexed as he turned to face me. “I meant–you’re not trained for this. You shouldn’t be on the front lines.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped. “You’ve seen me shift.”
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“And that means what? That you can tear through trained rogue soldiers? That you’re invincible? No, it means you’re a target. And if something happens to you—”
“I can handle myself.” I could. Like any werewolf child born into pack, I’d gotten trained to fight young. I held my own as a child with any number of weapons. I had the archery medals back home to prove it.
I may not remember all the lessons due to my amnesia, but my instincts were rock solid.
“Elena, I’m serious.” His voice dropped, soft but sharp. “Go. Please. I need to know you’re safe if I’m going to fight.”
That landed somewhere deep and bitter in my chest.
I nodded stiffly.
He kissed my forehead–brief, warm, infuriating. Then he was gone, sprinting down the
hallway toward chaos, peeling off his jacket as he ran.
I stood alone.
The hotel wing was to the left. My room, secure. A hiding place, just like Logan ordered.
I turned right.
My legs were already moving before my brain caught up. I was running toward the fire, toward the smoke curling down the corridor like it had teeth. I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t
stop at all.
I burst into the open–air corridor connecting the restaurant wing back to the summit
ballroom. Glass crunched beneath my shoes. The windows had blown out from the blast. Smoke poured from the left side of the building, a dull orange glow lighting the edge of the
sky.
Rogues were here.
I hit the restaurant door at a run and wrenched it open.
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Hell greeted me.
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The elegant dining room was wreckage now–tables overturned, silver cutlery embedded
in the walls, broken glass glittering like ice across the floor. A chair was on fire. Someone
screamed from behind the bar.
Alphas—those who had changed already–were fighting. Wolves tangled with rogues, fur and claws and blood blurring together in a frenzy of violence. It was chaos.
I dodged behind a broken column and surveyed the room.
A warrior from the Briarcliff Pack was pinned beneath a fallen beam. I darted forward and hauled it off with a grunt. “You good?”
He nodded, dazed. “Th–thank you, Princess.”
“Don’t thank me. Get out.”
a
I moved on, weaving between snarling bodies and bursts of flame. The smoke stung my
eyes.
Someone screamed again–this time closer.
I rounded the remains of the dessert station and froze.
A rogue was dragging a bleeding Luna toward the hallway. The woman kicked weakly. “Help…” she whispered.
I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed a jagged silver serving platter and slammed it across the rogue’s
head.
He went down. The woman scrambled away.
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Chapter 66
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Chapter 66
