The witch does her best to hide it, grappling for a mask of fearless indifference, of superiority, but I can see the cracks in the façade. The lingering effects of whatever had a hold of her a moment ago have her reeling.
She pushes her hair off her face with a trembling hand and her head cocks, studying me. A sneer breaks out across her face as she cackles a humorless laugh.
“Let me guess,” she bites out, bloodless lips curled into a cold smirk. “You must be the pack Alpha, that little cunt’s Goddess-given mate. I’ve heard so much about you.”
My wolf lowers his head, a deadly snarl cracking in the air between us.
She’s unfazed; if anything, she’s thrilled to see my reaction, as if she feels victorious for having forced the sound from me. “Arrived just in time to save the day, puppy. After the shit she just pulled, there was no way I was going to let that fuckingcrossbornmake it out of these woods alive. Don’t care what anyone else has planned for her.”
The growl that rumbles from my chest is vicious enough to rattle bones, a warning no creature with any self-preservation would ignore. This foolish witch already forced my mate to march through an unknown degree of hell, and now she’s continuing to threaten what is mine? That threat against his mate has my wolf’s body swelling, fur bristling, pure alpha dominance radiating from him in waves.
She’s about to learn the price of her mistake. I’ll paint this forest red before I let this witch or anyone else cause any more harm to Noa.
Sensing that her clock is ticking, her gaze flicks between me and the wicked-looking blade that lies forgotten in the dirt. It’s stained in dried blood. I can’t pinpoint whose it is, but I know it belongs to another wolf.
She lunges, reckless and desperate.
But my wolf’s already on her.
She doesn’t get the chance to scream or make a single noise before her throat is between his teeth.
Chapter 4
Noa
The trees grow thicker the farther I run.
The dense canopy above swallows what little light filters through from the afternoon sun, creating dark shadows that shift and move like ghosts. The toes of my shoes catch on roots and fern leaves tangle around my calves. The ground is softer out here, damp from autumn rain and the light snow that’s fallen recently. The mud and moss coating the forest floor slides beneath my soles with every step, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I keep my arms tight around Ivey, her shrill sounds of distress a constant reminder that I can’t afford to fall apart. Or slow down.
Her cries build with each ragged breath she inhales into her little lungs. Each sharp wail cuts through the silence and stillness of the forest like a blade. My chest constricts with each one. If Malvina has recovered and is anywhere near, this will lead her straight to us. Like blood in the water.
Or if someone else is out here—one of the additional soldiers they brought to lay siege on us—it won’t take them long to hunt us down.
I press my lips to Ivey’s temple, whispering whatever words come, soft and hoarse, into the short strands of her fair hair. “Shh, Ivey girl. I know…I know. Just…please, baby. Please be quiet.”
But she doesn’t. She cries harder.
I’m far past the point of being able to think straight.
My thoughts are being pulled in too many directions. I’m doing my best to keep Ivey calm and focus on the terrain beforeme while also trying to listen for any signs we’re being followed. And through it all, I keep thinking about Ashvale, on what I heard before Malvina ordered us down the trail.
My heart tugs at the image of Lowri’s wolves fighting without her leadership. So many of them came to us as Nightingales first, they’ve already survived unimaginable horrors. And now they’re fighting for each other, for everything we’ve built, and I’m out here running blind with no backup or plan.
I don’t know how I accessed that power with Malvina, but it’s gone now. The threads have vanished. I search within for them again and try to summon them, but there’s nothing. Just quiet. It’s like it never happened at all.
I can’t wait and hope it comes back. I have to keep moving. Ivey’s counting on me.
I don’t notice the dip until my foot’s already sliding. The ground gives way beneath me, and I stumble hard, barely managing to throw my weight back in time. I go down hard, landing on my ass. The impact jars every bone from tailbone to neck. Ivey shrieks, her small fists tangled in my bloody hoodie.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” I whisper, bouncing her and patting her back to sooth her. My voice shakes as I choke on a sob I didn’t know was rising.
I sit just long enough to force the panic back down and murmur Ivey’s name again and again, pouring every silent plea for her to calm down into the sound of it.
Then something shifts behind me. Leaves crunch. A twig snaps.
I freeze, head snapping in the direction of the source.
I don’t wait to see what it is. I’m up and running again before the fear can root me in place in the mud. Ivey’s cries are still sharp in my ears, but all I care about now is putting space between us and the threat I can’t yet identify.
