Althea’s head lifted weakly, her vision hazy through blood and tears. Yet even in her half-dazed state, she recognized him. The tall, broad figure cloaked in black, eyes burning with a lethal glow.

The Alpha King. Gavriel.

His gaze swept across the hall, cold and sharp as a blade. The executioner froze mid-motion, the whip slipping from his hand as if the strength had been stolen from his body.

“What,” Gavriel’s voice thundered, deep and resonant, “is the meaning of this?”

The ...