be silent.
Kahanov swore and spat, then stepped closer to me and lowered his
voice. “Tell me where the Soul Knife is.”
“It’s here,” I heard myself say.
He laughed. “Really? Clever girl. Show it to me.”
I fought his control, but my blood began to boil.
Help me, I begged my wolf.
I felt her strength rise within, a snarled torrent of rage. Tell that bastard to
—
“Fuck off!” we roared together as my body shook with her fury.
“So much stronger now!” Kahanov hissed. Then he gritted his teeth and
pointed his finger at me. I felt his signature surge, a vile, dominating presence
pushing down on me from every direction.
I let out a single sob of frustration as my resistance broke, and I
summoned the Soul Knife. The cursed thing materialized in my hand in a
swirl of purple smoke.
My heartbeat raced. It was happening all over again, just as he had
dominated
me in my room. Every muscle strained in protest.
He opened his palm. “Give it to me. Put it in my hand.”
He was so powerful, I knew that even with the strength of my wolf, I
couldn’t resist.
But his words gave me a slender opening.
“Here, asshole!” I lunged and put the blade in his hand—point first. The
vial shattered in a burst of glass and blood, and he screamed in rage.
A green wall of fire erupted from his hands. The shockwave seared my
skin and threw me backward. I crashed into the wall and gasped as roots dug
into my spine.
“Give me the damn knife!” Kahanov sprang forward and grabbed my
wrist, but I kneed him in the groin.