Even Evan faltered for a heartbeat, golden eyes going wide with something that might have been recognition. Because this wasn't just violence for its own sake. This was a demonstration of savagery that came from someone who'd spent twenty years learning to survive in places where mercy was a luxury that got you killed.
Calder dropped what remained of the heart and growled low, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the ground itself. When he spoke, his voice slid through whatever psychic bond connected pack wolves, reaching places in my head that shouldn't have been accessible to outsiders.
“This is strength,”he said, words carrying weight that made reality shiver at the edges. “The weak feed the strong. Do you understand, heir? Your pack will be mine when you fall.”
His gaze locked on Evan like a predator savoring the kill to come, but there was something personal in it too. Something that spoke of grudges nursed in darkness and vengeance that had been fermenting for decades.
The surviving rogues howled, riled by their leader's display of dominance. They surged forward again, abandoning whatever strategy they'd been following in favor of pure aggression that sought to overwhelm through numbers and violence.
Evan roared, a sound that belonged in prehistoric nightmares, and launched himself at Calder with fury that transcended tactical thinking. They came together like colliding planets, massive forms that couldn't occupy the same space without destroying everything around them.
The forest exploded with violence that made our previous skirmish look like a playground scuffle. Teeth tore through fur and flesh, claws raked across hide that had been scarred by years of similar battles
Around them, chaos reigned as the remaining rogues attacked with renewed fury. I fought like a man possessed, loosing arrows until my fingers bled from the string's bite and my shoulders screamed with exhaustion. One rogue collapsed with silver buried in its eye, brain stem severed by a shot that had been more luck than skill.
Another staggered as Dad drove his dagger deep into its throat, the blade disappearing up to the hilt before he twistedand yanked it free in a spray of arterial blood that painted his face like war paint. His hands were shaking, but his eyes held the grim determination that belonged to someone who'd finally found his line in the sand.
Jonah scrambled up from where he'd been pinned, shifting back to human form long enough to grab a broken branch thick as my wrist. “Remind me never to patrol with you again,” he gasped as he brought it down on a rogue's skull with enough force to crack bone.
I almost laughed, but the sound was drowned in snarls and the wet noise of claws finding flesh. Because this was what passed for humor in our world now, wasn't it? Jokes told while standing ankle-deep in blood, friendship measured by willingness to die beside each other.
The rogue I'd been tracking finally made its move, lunging for Dad's back while he was distracted with the one in front of him. I put an arrow through its neck without conscious thought, silver tip severing its spine and dropping it mid-leap.
“Thanks,” Dad panted, wiping blood from his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Thank me when we're all still breathing,” I replied, already nocking another arrow because the night was far from over.
Evan and Calder's battle had become the center around which everything else revolved, two forces of nature trying to determine dominance through violence that belonged in mythology rather than reality. They were both bleeding from dozens of wounds, but neither showed signs of backing down.
Calder was bigger and stronger. But Evan was faster, younger, fuelled by rage and the desperate need to protect the people he loved.
It should have been enough. Would have been enough against any normal opponent.
But Calder wasn't normal. He was something else, something that had learned to survive by being more savage than anything else that lived in the dark places between civilizations.
He slammed Evan to the ground with enough force to crack ribs, massive jaws closing around Evan's throat with deliberate slowness that spoke of savoring the moment.
“Too weak,”Calder's voice slid through the bond, mocking and warm and utterly wrong. “You can't even hold your line. How do you expect to hold your pack?”
But Evan rallied, desperation giving him strength that should have been impossible. He twisted under Calder's weight, claws finding soft places while his jaws snapped for anything they could reach. The two separated in a spray of blood and fur, circling each other like forces of nature looking for the perfect opening.
Better,Calder acknowledged, and there was something that might have been approval in his mental voice.But not good enough. Not yet.
The remaining rogues finally retreated, two dead and the survivors limping into shadows that welcomed them like old friends. But Calder didn't chase them, didn't press his advantage when he clearly could have.
Instead, he stood tall among the carnage, blood dripping from his muzzle. His laugh was a guttural, mocking sound that seemed to echo off the trees themselves.
“This is only a taste, heir,”he said, voice carrying the weight of prophecy and promise. “Next time, I won't stop. Next time, I take everything.”
His eyes flicked to me, to Dad, to Jonah.
Evan snarled, lunging forward with everything he had left, but Calder was already melting into the darkness between the trees. One moment he was there, solid and threatening andabsolutely real. The next, he was gone as if he'd never existed at all.
We were left in ruins, standing ankle-deep in blood. Dad wiped his blade clean on his jacket, hands trembling now that the adrenaline was fading and shock was setting in.
I gripped my bow tight enough to leave marks, chest heaving as I tried to process what we'd just survived. Because it didn't feel like victory, despite the dead rogues scattered around us like broken toys. It felt like we'd been tested and found barely adequate.
Evan shifted back to human form, blood streaking his chest from wounds that would need attention soon. When he looked at me and Dad, his eyes held something that might have been pride mixed with fear.
