"Lucky hit," his rumbled growl seemed to say.
She bared her teeth in what might have been a smile.Try again.
They clashed in the center of the square, a blur of gold and violence. Teeth snapped. Claws tore. Snow sprayed red where they rolled and fought and broke apart only to collide again. Maeve took a hit to her ribs that cracked bone, felt the sharp stab of pain but used it, channeling her lioness's fury into her next attack.
She went low, targeting his front legs, trying to hobble him. If she could limit his mobility, his size advantage disappeared.
Hector caught on quickly. He reared back, bringing his full weight down on her spine. Agony exploded along her back. Her legs buckled. For one terrifying moment, she felt herself going down, felt his jaws closing in for the killing blow.
Then Dante's roar split the night, so full of rage and fear that even Hector hesitated.
That hesitation cost him.
Maeve surged up, throwing him off, twisting to sink her teeth into his foreleg. She tasted blood and fury and the bitter satisfaction of hurting the male who'd threatened everything she loved. Hector tried to shake her off, but she held on, her jaw locked like a vice.
His yowl of pain was music.
She released him, dancing back before he could retaliate. They circled again, both breathing hard, both bleeding, but Maeve felt the shift in energy. She was holding her own. More than holding. She was winning.
Hector's eyes narrowed. His tail lashed once.
Then he lunged, not at her, but toward the crowd. Toward where Freya stood with Kieran, her hands still glowing green.
Maeve's heart stopped.
She launched herself after him, but she was too far, her ribs screaming protest, her legs not quite fast enough to close the distance before he reached the witch.
Kieran's tiger form exploded forward, meeting Hector head-on. They collided with bone-rattling force, but the distraction had done its job.
Three of Hector's pride lions broke from their positions, charging not toward Maeve, but toward the civilians she'd been protecting.
"Cheating bastard!" Someone screamed.
The rules of single combat shattered like glass.
Suddenly the square erupted with shifting bodies as Hollow Oak's defenders responded to the threat. Callum's massive lion form appeared beside Maeve, his blue eyes blazing. Emmett and Ryker flanked her other side, both in wolf form, teeth bared. Lucien materialized as a black panther, deadly and silent.
Callum's growl rumbled,We've got your back.
Maeve's lioness roared acceptance. Not because she needed saving, but because this was what pack meant. What pride meant. Fighting together, protecting together.
She charged back toward Hector, who'd abandoned his attack on Freya when Kieran proved too fierce an opponent. Around them, Hollow Oak's defenders clashed with Hector's pride in earnest now, no more pretense of rules or honor.
Dante appeared at her side despite his wounds, golden and bloodied. His presence steadied her, their connection amplifying the strength flowing between them.
She went high while he went low. Her claws found Hector's face while Dante's teeth sank into his back leg. They worked in tandem, forcing Hector to defend multiple angles, overwhelming him with coordinated attacks he couldn't counter.
He tried to focus on her. Dante tore into his flank.
He swung toward Dante. She ripped into his shoulder.
Behind them, Callum and Emmett drove three of Hector's lions toward the tree line. Kieran and Lucien worked together to protect the civilians, their different species moving with practiced coordination. Even Ryker fought with brutal efficiency, his prophecy-honed instincts making him nearly impossible to hit.
Hollow Oak fought as one.
And Hector's attack crumbled.
"Retreat!" The command came from one of Hector's lieutenants, a scarred male barely holding his own against Callum's fury. "Fall back!"
