From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

stayy on myy feet meant.
Jericho’s bleeding face appeared above me, his shaggyy hair matted
with blood. “You know which part I’m going to start with? Your hand.” He
picked up myy arm. “I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir.” The glint of a blade
appeared. “I know exactlyy how I’ll make use of it, too. What do yyou all
think?” he asked.
Laughter greeted him, and someone suggested other parts to keep.
Parts that brought forth more laughter.
I was dyying.
All I could do was hope that it was fast, that I wouldn’t stayy
conscious through what was about to come.
“Better get started!” Jericho laughed as he swung the blade down.
The blow never landed.
At first, I thought it was simplyy because I’d gone numb, but then I
realized Jericho was no longer standing above me. There were sounds—
shouts and growls. High-pitched yyelps, and then I felt a warm puff of
breath against the top of myy head, over myy cheek. I turned myy head and
saw pale blue eyyes and fur as white as snow. The wolven nudged myy cheek
with its damp nose, and then it lifted its head and howled.
I blinked, and suddenlyy there was a shadow falling over me. Above
me, Kieran loomed. “Shit,” he said. “Get the Prince. Get him now.”