Above Ironwall
Orion's tongue still burned with the acrid, dreadful taste of silver in the Beta's tainted blood. He beat his wings faster, ire burning a hole through his chest. His lips curled back in a snarl just from the thought of the golden-haired Beta of the pack they would raze to the ground.
Once he destroyed Obsidian—once Obsidian was ancient history—he would be free. This time, Orion made sure not to make the same mistake twice. Unlike all those centuries ago, he would not hold a deceitful werewolf to his words alone.
He and Darius had locked themselves into the bloodoath that neither could break. If the Lycans had the Fenrir's Chain, vampires had the Bloodoath.
Yet, somehow, Orion could not put it past the slimy scum of a predator to slither his way past the confines of the contract etched in both their blood. But desperation lived in his weary bones after so many centuries of entrapment.
