Chapter 40. Take the Silver Knife

Weston's POV

For one second, nobody in that hall moved at all.

Then two hundred wolves came to their feet at once, and the noise went up into the rafters like a flock of birds.

I'd seen a riot once, at a border market when I was nineteen. It sounded like this.

Not words, at first. Just a roar. Chairs going over. Glasses breaking.

And under it a smell that went straight to the base of my skull: fear, and rage, and the oldest thing of all, the thing every wolf in the Eastern Packs had been raised to feel at the name Kincaid.

Kill it before it grows.

"Kincaid," somebody shouted from the long tables. "Kincaid, here, in this house—"

"The king's own hall—"

What happens next? Find out!

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Read till 3am again

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My heart is still racing

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I'm obsessed

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My new guilty pleasure

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