“Good.” I survey the defenses one final time. “Are the diversions in place?”
He nods. “Eastern ridge and southern approach. On your signal.”
I feel the weight of the coming violence settle into my bones. Blood will flow tonight. Some of it may be ours. But Thaddeus’s forces will suffer far worse.
“Begin,” I command.
The eastern diversion ignites first—literally. Fires erupt at multiple points along the ridge, creating the impression of a sizeable force approaching with torches. Alarms sound immediately, warriors rushing to defensive positions as the southern diversion activates—howls echoing through the valley, suggesting another large group closing in from that direction.
I watch as Thaddeus’s forces divide, responding predictably to threats that don’t exist while leaving vulnerabilities we’ve carefully identified over the past two days.
“Second phase,” I order into the communications device our tech wolves rigged for the operation.
On my command, a smaller but real attack launches against the western perimeter—just enough force to engage their remaining exterior guards while creating a corridor through which I can enter.
I shift, my massive black form coalescing in the darkness. Unlike traditional assaults where I would lead from the front, this mission requires a different approach. My elite team—five of our deadliest fighters—forms around me as we move silently toward our entry point, a service tunnel our scouts identified.
The guards stationed there never see us coming. One moment they stand vigilant, the next they lie dead, their throats torn out before they can raise the alarm. We drag their bodies inside the tunnel, obscuring evidence of our entry.
The passageway narrows as we descend, forcing us to proceed in single file. The air grows thicker, heavy with the mineral scent of underground spaces and the distinctive musk of wolf-kind. Through our pack bond, I maintain silent communication with my team—directing, adjusting, coordinating without words that might alert our enemies.
We encounter the first serious resistance at a junction where the service tunnel connects to the main complex. Six guards, better armed and more alert than those outside, patrol the intersection. Silver-tipped spears gleam under harsh lights, a visible warning that they’re prepared.
I signal my team to hold position while I assess. The silver weapons present a problem—even a glancing blow could weaken us significantly, compromising our mission before we’ve truly begun.
I shift back to human form, my decision made. “Hold here,” I instruct softly. “I’ll clear the junction. If I fall, complete the mission.”
Before they can object, I move forward alone, staying within shadows that cling to the tunnel walls. The guards are disciplined but comfortable in their routine, attention focused outward toward the sounds of distant fighting rather than the darkness behind them.
Their mistake.
I take the first guard silently, my hand clamping over his mouth while my other arm snaps his neck with a single violent twist. I lower his body noiselessly, claiming his silver spear before moving to the next target.
The second guard dies as quietly as the first. The third notices something amiss, turning just as I reach him—enough time for his eyes to widen in recognition before my stolen spear pierces his throat, preventing a warning cry.
The remaining three panic as their companion falls. They respond with commendable speed, silver weapons raised as they form a defensive triangle.
“The shadow wolf,” one hisses, recognition flaring in his eyes.
I don’t waste breath on words. These wolves stand between me and my mate. Their lives are forfeit.
I launch forward, using the first guard’s body as a shield against their initial thrust. Silver-tipped spears pierce thecorpse as I drive forward, breaking their formation. In close quarters, their long weapons become unwieldy while my stolen spear finds vulnerable flesh.
The fourth guard falls, his chest punctured. The fifth manages to score a shallow cut along my arm with his silver blade. Pain flares, sharper than normal injury, but I push through it, driving my weapon up under his ribcage. The sixth breaks, turning to flee, but dies with my spear through his back before he can take three steps.
Six bodies lie at my feet, the junction secured. I signal my team forward as I bind the silver wound quickly. It burns, but not enough to significantly impair me. Not yet.
“Inner compound ahead,” I tell them as they join me. “Expect heavier resistance.”
We move deeper into the complex, following the route our intelligence suggested where Kitara is most likely held. The diversions outside continue to draw attention away from our infiltration, but we encounter increasingly organized resistance as we penetrate further.
At a heavily reinforced doorway, we face our first major obstacle—a squad of eight elite guards bearing the Grand Alpha’s insignia. These aren’t ordinary wolves but specialized fighters, their movements synchronized and disciplined as they attempt to intercept us.
“Alpha,” one of my team murmurs, “silver dust in the air. They’ve prepared this choke point.”
I can smell it now—the metallic tang that warns of danger to our kind. They’ve created a defensive position where wolf strength will be compromised, forcing us to fight at reduced capacity.
“Alternate route?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
