Chapter 51 CHAPTER 51

Chapter 51 CHAPTER 51
Dmitri’s POV
I looked around the battlefield, counting the bodies—assassins and guards alike, scattered across the mud like discarded toys. The assassins who had shifted back to human form were regrouping, their eyes filled with a new kind of fear.

They had seen what I could do. They knew they couldn't win.

They were wrong. They had already lost.

One of them, the leader, was backing away, his eyes darting toward the treeline. He was planning to escape, to regroup, to try again another day.

I wouldn't let him.

I started toward him, my claws dripping with gore, my eyes blazing with red fire. The rain continued to fall, but I barely felt it. All I felt was the hunger, the need, the want.

The beast was in control now. It had taken over completely, and it was demanding more.

More. More. MORE!

I was losing myself, sinking deeper into the darkness. The assassins were irrelevant now—just obstacles to be removed on my path to greater violence.

The leader was still backing away, his hands raised, his mouth opening to say something—

And then I heard it.

The whistle of arrows cutting through the air. The unmistakable sound of another volley, aimed not at me, but at the carriages.

No. Tessa's carriage.

I spun, my eyes scanning the battlefield, and I saw them—three assassins who had slipped past the defensive line while I was distracted by the wolves. They were moving toward Tessa's carriage with single-minded purpose, their weapons abandoned, replaced by something else.

Something dark and metallic.

Cylinders. Bombs.

No.

The word exploded in my mind, and I moved. I tried to reach them, tried to intercept them, but there were too many bodies between me and the carriage. The assassins who had blocked my path had done their job well—they had bought their companions the time they needed.

I was too far away. Too slow.

No. No, no, no, no, NO!

I watched it happen in slow motion. The lead assassin pulling the cylinder from his cloak. His arm drawing back. The dark object arcing through the air, trailing smoke and sparks.

Time seemed to freeze. I could see every detail—the rain falling, the lightning flashing, the terrified faces of my guards. I could see Tessa's carriage, still intact, still holding the one person who mattered more to me than anything in this world.

I could see the bomb hurtling toward it.

"NO!" I screamed, and the sound was torn from the depths of my soul. But it was too late.

The explosion was blinding. A wall of fire and shrapnel erupted from the carriage, consuming it in a heartbeat. The force of the blast threw everyone back—guards, assassins, even Kastiel. I felt myself lifted off my feet, felt the heat of the flames wash over me, felt the concussive force slam into my chest like a physical blow.

I crashed to the ground, my head slamming against a rock, my vision swimming. For a moment, everything was darkness and ringing silence.

And then I heard it. The crackling of flames. The screams of horses. The shouts of men.

I pushed myself up, my body screaming in protest, and looked toward where the carriage had been.

It was gone.

Not damaged. Not burning.

Gone

In its place was a crater of smoldering wood and twisted metal, flames licking at the sky despite the rain. The blackened remains of the carriage frame lay scattered across the mud, still smoking, still glowing with residual heat.

And in the center of it all, nothing. No movement. No sound. Just silence.

"Tessa," I whispered.

The name was a prayer. A plea. A broken cry that was swallowed by the rain and thunder.

I stumbled toward the wreckage, my legs barely able to support me. The red haze was gone, replaced by something worse—a cold, hollow emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole.

The beast was silent. For the first time since the battle began, it had nothing to say. No demands, no urges, no violence. Just... silence.

I fell to my knees in the mud, my hands reaching for the wreckage, searching for something—anything—that might prove she was still alive. I ignored the heat, the sharp edges of twisted metal, the glass that cut into my palms.

But there was nothing. Only fire and ash and the acrid smell of burning wood.

The remaining assassins—what was left of them—began to retreat, melting back into the trees. They had done what they came to do. Their mission was complete.

I barely noticed. I was too busy tearing at the wreckage, my hands bleeding, my throat raw from screaming her name.

"Tessa! TESSA!"

The beast began to stir again. Not with hunger this time. With rage. Pure, incandescent, all-consuming rage.

She was gone. Gone. The one person who had shown me kindness when I deserved none. The one person who made the voices quiet. The one person who made me feel human again.

And they had taken her from me.

The beast screamed in my head, a sound of such primal fury that it felt like my skull would split open. The red haze returned, stronger than ever, drowning out everything else.

KILL THEM. KILL THEM ALL. DESTROY EVERYTHING.

I tried to resist. Tried to hold onto the last shred of my humanity.

But it was useless.

The beast was too powerful. The rage was too overwhelming. The grief was too much to bear.

I felt the shift begin—the full shift, the one I hadn't allowed in weeks. My bones cracked and reformed, my body expanding, my muscles tearing and rebuilding. White fur rippled across my skin, dark as the thunderclouds above. My claws extended, each one the length of a dagger. My fangs lengthened, sharpening to razor points.

My vision went red. Not the red of my eyes—the red of rage. Total, absolute, consuming fury.

The Mad King was fully awake now. And he wanted nothing but destruction.