Lauren collapses to the ground, defeated and deflated; her breathing coming ragged and broken. She stares up at me: the fire—and some of the power—has died out in her eyes, but the hatred in them has never been so peak.
She casts her eyes towards Mason; they stare at each other in appropriate bewilderment. A hulking hole exists now where something used to span the space between them. She searches his irises for something—only it is now freshly dead.
Mason can't stop staring at her either, flummoxed. He tries to work his mouth to close, but it hangs open all the same. He glances at me. 'What have you done, Claire?' He breathes in anger, coupled with wonder.
What I had to do, I snap adamantly in his mind. You are mine, Mason. I have stolen you unfair and square. If you have the power, you can take it—is that not the creed you Imperial lycans live by?
