Page 156 of Griffin Food

The pain yet lingers, confused and bruised. I muster my resolve. Try to see clearly through the storm of Fenix's emotions and into the truth of Atlas's words.

Below is my sister, at her side, the High King and Elijah.

A different battle awaits me. One every bit as bitter, and one that still lashes me with raw potency from Fenix's side of the bond.

There is no time to linger upon such thoughts, for Aldric descends in a rush of wind and fury, landing hard enough to crack the earth beneath his claws. The soldiers guarding my sister and her retinue scatter.

Elisa does not move. The High King takes a step back. But Elijah—my sister's husband, the man who preyed upon my omega sisters—stands his ground with the particular arrogance of someone too stupid to understand what is before him. At his side, and the only one of his dogs not cowering, stands his favored henchman, Maren, a truly heinous man. He officially works for Elijah, but Elisa has called on his discreet services on occasion—it was Maren who took my younger sister Rebecca in the dead of the night and tossed her through the portal at Elisa’s behest.

Aldric lowers his body, and I slide from his back. My feet meet the churned ground, and I steady myself.

The air implodes, and Atlas stands where Aldric was. Clothed in his simple leather armor, composed, radiating a cold authority that needs no words.

Behind us comes the beat of wings. Darkan lands to our left, Galeor to our right. Two griffins flanking their Pride Leader's mate. Feathers settle. Beaks clack.

Then the thunder of hooves and paws—Rafe on horseback in his gold-plated armor, and Lark, bloodied and white-coated, loping at his side.

My mates form a wall at my back.

I face my sister.

Elisa's gaze moves over them, calculating, even now. The High King is ashen. But Elijah steps aggressively forward, lip curling, his eyes fixed on me with the same contempt he wore when he prowled the halls of our family home. “Well, if it isn't the little omega who⁠—”

He does not finish.

The air cracks. Aldric erupts from Atlas in a burst of fury—no warning—and a massive claw slams Elijah into the ground. The sound is wet and final. Aldric's beak closes around his head and wrenches it from his shoulders in a single, savage motion.

Blood arcs across the dirt and spatters my sister's face and clothes.

She does not scream. She stands motionless, her dead husband's blood running down her cheek.

Aldric raises his head to the sky and screeches—a sound that splits the air and shakes the very ground.

From nearby treetops, the ground, and sky above us, the answering screeches come. Every griffin in the eyrie, every griffin on the field, lifts its voice in echo. The sound rolls across the valley like thunder.

Then silence.

The air implodes once more, and Atlas stands before us. His eyes find mine first. There is no apology in them.

I offer none in return.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Violet

As I look at my sister, many things become apparent. That she is selfish. That she has no remorse for any of the things that she has done. That her own bitter purpose, her own needs and wants, have consumed her utterly, to the detriment of all others.

Maybe my memory of our younger years has been rose-tinted. Maybe I only imagined something different when we were children. Maybe the part of me that is forever hopeful layered something better over reality than what actually was.

It doesn’t matter now.

The past is the past.

There’s no going back. There is no undoing what has already been done.

The woman before me is monstrous.

But she carries a child.