Danny runs on my right, younger and leaner, he has to lengthen his gait to keep up with wolves stronger and bigger than him. He’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t fall back. Hasn’t once complained. His focus is on what’s in front of him, ears cocking at every sound that might mean something.
All good signs and proof he might just make a decent enforcer if he was serious about beginning his training with Mercer.
We’re running the edge of the border that sits closest to the clearing with the runway. It’s funny how it was a place I never gave much thought to until now, how its importance was neatly boxed away in its simple ability to bring in necessary supplies to my pack. Never thought about it beyond that. And now, the damn thing and the vital role it plays for Tanith’s operation is one of the biggest motivations for the fight still headed our way.
We reach the farthest point of the route and find nothing waiting there. No disturbances. No signs of life that don’t belong. Turning as a unit, we begin the run back the way we came, senses still cast wide the entire time.
As we retrace our steps, Cathal’s offer whirls around in my head. He’d framed it like it was a mercy. A favor. When, really, I saw it for what it was—a choice that wasn’t really a choice at all. Something that would have guaranteed suffering for a large percentage of my pack, delivered with the arrogant certainty of a man who truly believed I might accept it.
He was wrong.
There is no version of me where I could knowingly trade away the freedom of the omegas under my protection. No reality where I agree to something that cages them. And that includes the omega who owns my heart.
We’re nearly done with our shift, just a handful of miles from the ridge that will drop us down into the heart of the territory, when we hear it.
At first, it’s just one scream, distant but unmistakably human, the kind of cry that doesn’t come from surprise or fear alone but from excruciating pain. It’s so sudden it has all three of us skidding to a stop, claws digging into the frozen earth. Now tense, our heads pivot in unison, ears straining to pick up on what direction it came from. Before we can pinpoint it, another cry of pain follows, then another, layered across the land instead of coming from a single point.
Some are human. Some are wolf.
The sounds overlap, voices collide in the cold air from too many different directions, and the chaos makes the truth land all at once. These cries don’t belong to my people. They belong to the trespassers sneaking onto my territory and getting caught in invisible traps.
Ashvale coven’s hidden protection spells.
Magic not meant to detain—No, Amara is well past that kind of mercy—but to maim and kill anything that threatens the lives here. The screams stand as evidence of Cathal’s wolves and Tanith’s witches paying for every step they take as they fight their way deeper.
They’re not sneaking in. They’re pushing.
The air erupts with more sound as howls answer the screams, patrol teams breaking into a run from across the territory, voices crashing together as they rush to meet the threat head-on. I doubled my patrol teams for this window, wanting my wolves running thick at dusk because I knew when Cathal struck, it would be during the failing light when he could use the shadows to his advantage.
The three of us turn together and run, forcing more speed from tired bodies as the distance drags on, paws tearing at theground as we eat up the miles toward the heart of the territory. Toward the line I’m meant to hold between this enemy and the community that follows me.
We’re nearly up the ridge when the waning gray light of day changes.
Pale green flashes through the trees and across the snow, bright enough to throw sharp shadows where there shouldn’t be any. Once again, grinding to a sharp stop, our senses straining as we search the tree canopy and the darkening horizon for a source that refuses to reveal itself.
The light surges again, stronger now, and doesn’t fade. At the same time, the air begins to pull taut, thin.
And with it comes a wave of power.
It doesn’t feel like wind. Doesn’t move air the way weather does. It hits with weight, with intent. As if something invisible and massive has just shoved through them, the trees groan as they bend and sway. Their thick trunks bow and snow is shaken loose from their branches, sheets of it raining down around us.
Every alarm bell knitted into my body goes off.
This magic is wrong, and not just because it’s unfamiliar. It feels forced, like something that was never meant to breathe has been dragged into existence and then turned loose on my territory.
This doesn’t feel like Thalassa’s familiar work. Or Amara’s. Or Noa’s.
As I think her name, the bond in my chest twists and my mate’s fear seeps through the connection. It sinks deep and refuses to ease its grip.
My wolf is already running toward her, not interested in pausing to assess or weigh threat levels. Least of all searching out the source of the green light.
All of that is unimportant in comparison to Noa’s fear.
Snow detonates beneath my paws as my body launches toward the center of the territory, toward the house where Noa had safely been when I left. The distance between us becomes the only enemy I can see or care about.
Behind me, Mercer and Danny don’t require an invitation to follow. They’re with me instantly, three bodies tearing through the trees at full speed.
I’ve barely covered a dozen lengths when something familiar and warm brushes the edge of my mind.
