“Time to wake up,” a voice whispered softly.

Alara’s eyes opened. She had slept perfectly, not stirring once and rousing in the same position she’d fallen asleep in. On her back, hands clasped over her stomach, legs out straight.

The grogginess of sleep wore off quickly, giving way to sharp thinking. The room was dark; night had fallen. She must have slept for a few hours.

Her head pounded suddenly, and Alara squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.

Get. Up, Secret insisted with a growl. Time is wasting. The ceremony has a short window of time to be performed.

Alara tried resisting, but her soul was still too weak from the surge of magic she’d exuded earlier. Why dusk?

Certain times of day enhance certain types of spells. Dusk is an intersection, a crossroads from day to night. The end of one thing and the beginning of another. Perfect for a severing spell. Now move.

Getting up, Alara began getting dressed in a simple black dress and black boots. Where are we going? she asked as Secret directed her body to the bathroom. Her eyes were flecked with silver, and she felt like punching the mirror. How had she gotten this weak? The doppelgänger had warned her about her willpower draining away. She hadn’t believed it, had thought she was strong enough.

What if she wasn’t?

Secret pulled her hair up into a ponytail and attached the dagger at her hip. She didn’t brush on any makeup before she turned the light off and left the suite. The guards fell in step behind her as she made her way down the stairs toward the ballroom.

Secret was silent the entire time. It made Alara antsy. I asked you a question earlier. Where are we going?

The ballroom.

Obviously. What for?

I told you. A spell—a sacrifice—that will save us all.

Two more guards were posted outside the doors to the rarely used ballroom. Alara had meant to reopen it, to use it for throwing grand galas as a means of reconnecting with their neighboring packs and hopefully forging stronger alliances. Only once things settled down, of course, but she had a feeling that wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

The guards opened the doors for her, bowing as she floated past.

The room was lit with hundreds of candles. Everyone was there—the wolves in her pack, the DPI, even Penelope. All staring blankly at her with silver eyes, their faces void of any expression.

Like living statues.

Alara shivered, creeped out.

A circle of white and red candles had been arranged in a star in the middle of the room. And at the center of the star stood an altar, its glossy golden surface reflecting the twinkling flames.

Secret stopped behind the altar, facing the door. “Bring the sacrifice.”

Alara’s eyes lifted as the door opened.

And then her heart stopped.

Nik had raised hell the entire time they’d dragged his ass to the dungeon. Only they weren’t going to the dungeon, he realized as a hundred glittering candles hit his line of vision and an altar came into view.

Son of a bitch. He was going to be sacrificed. Which meant the doppelgänger intended to use Blood Magic, one of the most dangerous houses of the Craft.

His eyes froze on the altar before rising to meet his mate’s unwavering gaze.

“Alara,” he breathed.

She clutched a dagger in her hands, her face as smooth as glass.

Struggling against his bonds, the silver burning his skin as it chafed, he growled and snapped as he was prodded forward like cattle. Penelope raised a hand, and he was lifted into the air and deposited onto the altar. Ropes appeared from nowhere, strapping him down tight. The cool metal pressed against his bare backside as he struggled but found he couldn’t move. The bitch of a witch hadn’t been messing around.

He glared at the doppelgänger. “What is this, some Blood Magic shit?”

It nodded, holding up the dagger. “Every sacrifice this blade has made has been out of hatred. That’s how the spell cast upon it works. The hatred allows the dagger to carry the souls of whomever it’s killed to Mistress Black, restoring her power. A sacrifice made out of love, however, along with a counterspell, should be enough to break Mistress Black’s spell.”

“How do you know that will work? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”

“I’ve done it once before, in another witch’s body. That’s how I learned the spell. People have been using it to undo spells from afar for centuries, in some incarnation of magic or another.”

Alara jerked her head from side to side. “No,” came her quavering voice. “No, I can’t do this.”

Gritting its teeth, the doppelgänger seized control. “It’s the only way, you fool. Don’t you want to stop Mistress Black?” Closing its eyes, the doppelgänger raised its voice and spoke a few words in what sounded like Latin. The rest of the room repeated the words, bouncing back and forth from the doppelgänger to the crowd. The doppelgänger raised the dagger high, aiming the point at Nik’s heart. It started to bring the dagger down, but its arm stopped.

“No!” Alara cried. “I won’t let you!”

Her arm shook—she was fighting the doppelgänger.

“How… are… you still so… strong?” the doppelgänger asked. “Your will should be… weakened… by now!”

“I love him,” Alara growled, her eyes briefly flashing gold through the silver. “And I won’t let you take him away from me, you bitch!”

“This will stop Mistress Black! She won’t be able to hurt the people you care about ever again.” Its eyes found Nik’s. “Don’t you want to save Alara? Your pack? Your brothers?”

“No, Nik!” Alara gritted out. “Don’t…listen… to it!”

The dagger inched down toward his chest, the fist gripping it turning white at the knuckles and shaking.

Nik turned the doppelgänger’s words over in his head. Wasn’t this what he’d been trying to accomplish all along? Save everyone he loved?

“You’re bullshitting me,” he said.

“I am Fey. I cannot lie.”

His chest rose and fell with quicker speed as he searched his mate’s beautiful face, trying to memorize it. “If I sacrifice myself, will you let Alara go?”

“Yes,” it said instantly. “You have my word.”

“And my pack? These people, every person under your hold?”

“They will all be released and free to live in a world safe from Mistress Black’s evil whims.”

He turned his head, glancing at the people surrounding him—his friends, his family, his pack.

All his life he’d worried about not being “good enough”—a good-enough leader, mate, brother, son.

Wasn’t that what being a good leader was? Being willing to sacrifice yourself to save your loved ones? He couldn’t save Ralph; the wolf had chosen his fate. Probably because he knew in killing him, it would hurt Nik the most, being the Alpha.

If he felt Ralph’s loss so deeply, then losing Alara would destroy him.

Never again. Never again will I lose another pack member.

And he had a promise to keep, the sacred oath he’d silently taken the moment he’d Marked Alara.

To protect her at any cost.

He looked into her eyes one last time.

“I love you, Alara.”

Shock flitted through her face. The doppelgänger, sensing her distraction, pounced on the opportunity.

Closing his eyes, he let the dagger plunge straight into his heart.