The Alpha’s Pack (Kit Davenport Book 6)

It didn’t take long, thanks to the help of magic, to entirely clear the salt flats of supernatural soldiers. There were far more bodies than I would have ever hoped to hear about, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on how I was responsible for those lost lives.

The deceased were all transported out, along with the living and injured, back to Omega Headquarters, where we had medic mages set up and waiting.

Soon, all that was left on that wide-open space was my kneeling mother and my six dianoch. The once pristine white salt was stained crimson and brown with the blood of many, and it seemed eerily fitting that this was where we would end it all.

“If you’re going to kill me, then get on with it,” Bridget spat, curling her lip at me like I was some abhorrent creature. Like she hadn’t tried to behead me with a freaking sword just hours ago. Talk about drawing the short straw on the family front.

Giving her a toothy grin, I cracked my stiff neck and played with the chain of my amulet.

“Now, why would you think I’m going to kill you?” I asked her. Quietly, I wasn’t totally sure I could kill her. After all, both Lachlan and Vic had failed.

Bridget glared at me in fury. “Oh, please. As if you’re letting me go after all of this.” She cast a quick gaze around us at the vivid red stains. “Besides, someone must have told you along the way that direct Ban Dia blood relatives can kill one another, if they put enough effort into it.”

I pursed my lips at this information—information that I didn’t actually know. “With enough effort” must mean decapitation. Otherwise my gunshot to her head would have done the trick.

“So, if roles were reversed here, you wouldn’t think twice about taking my head off and condemning my soul to an eternity of torture at the hands of the Horsemen?” I narrowed my eyes at her, and she scoffed.

“Of course I wouldn’t. Your human upbringing has made you soft if you’ve even considered any other option.” Even staring down death, Bridget was as arrogant and snide as ever.

I nodded like I agreed with her. “Well, be that as it may, I think I will let you live.”

Sounds of protest came from my guys, but I held up a hand to silence them.

Bridget looked stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You really are dumber than you look!”

“Am I, though?” I cocked my head to the side as I looked down on her, my fingers gripping the amulet at my throat.

Whatever she said next was drowned out by the deafening whoosh of magic as I opened myself to the power of the amulet in a totally different way than I’d used it before. With breaking Vic and Lachlan’s bonds, it had just aided me—boosted my own actions with the necessary ingredient.

This, though, this was different. More instinctual, almost natural. My magic welcomed the amulet’s power and merged with it effortlessly as we reached out and wrapped a mental fist around the glowing power inside of Bridget.

As my magic snared hers, she let out a gasp. All the blood drained from her face, and her eyes began to panic.

Panic, she should.

Tightening my grip on the core of her magic—something no one should be able to do to another supernatural being—I yanked it from her with all my strength. At first, it didn’t budge. But the amulet worked as a corrosive, breaking down all the tethers to her soul until there was nothing left to tie it down, and the whole thing slid free like an octopus that had lost its fight.

I kept pulling, watching with my mind’s eye to be sure every last trace of magic was gone from her being before I released the slippery mass. It dropped from my magical grip, feeling wet and spongy, but when it hit the hard-packed salt of the earth, it shattered like it had been made of the finest glass.

As it impacted, the ground shook, and a shock wave burst from the shattered pieces like someone had just detonated an EMP. The force of it all knocked us from our feet, scattering us over fifty feet or more until it died away in the far distance.

“Everyone okay?” River called out, and I groaned, pushing myself back up on weary feet.

“Is she dead?” Austin asked, picking himself up and stalking over to where Bridget lay crumpled on the crimson salt.

I grunted and shook my head, checking her aura with my own magic. “No,” I replied, “she only wishes she was.”

“What did you do to her?” Cole rumbled, using the toe of his boot to roll my mother’s unconscious form over.

Yawning at the sudden wave of exhaustion hitting me, I tilted my head as I peered down at the woman at my feet. “Just a little karmic justice,” I admitted, feeling my lips tilting in a smug smile. “I made her into the thing she seems to hate the most. A human. Now she can live out her days comfortably in a filthy cell of our choosing and grow old. Just like a human.”

Bridget moaned as she started to regain consciousness, and a rush of satisfaction and relief ran through me when not a single spark of magic ignited within her as she woke.

And to think, she’d assumed death was the worst thing awaiting her.