LERRIN
Lerrin's chest was tight, his mind echoing with images of the prisoners who had already been killed, with vivid images of Reth descending on him, tied in a corner and unable to defend himself.
He knew the risk was real. And he knew if he were in Reth's shoes it is what he would have done—having received an accurate message to stop the attack or not. He wouldn't have allowed the Cat to live. If he'd been provided the means to find and imprison his enemy, not only would he have taken it, he would have bitten out the male's throat the moment they were breathing the same air.
The thought he had then took his breath away. It came to him, in full color and sound, that he walked into this day praying that his enemy—the male he'd taunted, attempted to kill, and declared war on—was more merciful, more balanced, more wide awake, than he was himself.
How was that possible?
