"Damn it." Mordred's brow creased as he watched his father's brown wolf scramble away, leaving a bloody trail behind.
His solemn mask twisted into something vicious as the beast tried to escape. Even shifted, Arthur was too weak to take on Mordred's human form in his current state.
"Come on, Dad. Don't make this harder than it has to be. I'll make it quick."
The truth hit Arthur like a punch to the gut. He'd been such a fool, placing Mordred on a pedestal, forcing himself to see a son where none existed. No blood connection, no real bond—just his desperate need for an heir blinding him to reality.
What a massive mistake.
Why the hell would he want a son who craved his death?
Damn.
He should've listened to Lyra. Should've believed her when she spoke the truth about Mordred's darkness. Now he'd pay the price for his blindness.
"Here, Dad." Mordred stalked closer like a wolf circling wounded prey. "Why make this difficult?"
