Evan hit the second wolf from the side, driving it away from the ward-line with savage efficiency. Nate darted in with impossible speed, druid magic propelling him forward to intercept a third attacker. His teeth found leg, twisted, and the corrupted wolf went down howling.
Rafe moved like water, like violence made fluid. He took down a wolf that had broken through toward Michael, catching it mid-leap and bearing it to the ground with brutal precision. His jaws closed around its throat and crushed, and the corrupted wolf thrashed once before going still.
Then it dissolved into shadow. Just came apart like smoke, leaving nothing behind but the stench of decay and dark magic.
What the hell?
I didn't have time to process. Another corrupted wolf lunged at me and I met it head-on, all teeth and fury and the desperate need to keep them away from my pack. We rolled, snapping at each other, and I felt claws score across my ribs, felt blood mat my fur.
The corrupted wolves attacked.
They moved as one unit, coordinated and brutal, hitting the ward-line with enough force to make it shimmer and crack like glass under pressure. The sound alone made my ears ring—a high-pitched screech of magic being torn apart at the seams.
I lunged forward and met the first corrupted wolf in a collision that shook the ground, sent shockwaves through my bones. My jaws found throat, clamped down, and the taste was wrong—sour and chemical, like meat that had rotted from the inside out. The wolf twisted with inhuman strength, claws raking across my shoulder deep enough to scrape bone, and I felt hot blood mat my fur.
Pain exploded white-hot through my nervous system but I didn't let go. Couldn't let go. I bit down harder, felt windpipe collapse under the pressure of my jaws, and the corrupted wolf went limp.
Then it dissolved into shadow, leaving me with nothing but ash on my tongue and blood streaming down my leg.
Two more broke through the ward-line.
Evan hit one from the side, a blur of gray fur and savage fury, driving it away from Nate's exposed flank. They collided with bone-breaking force, rolled across frozen ground in a tangle of snapping jaws and raking claws. The corrupted wolf got its teeth into Evan's shoulder, tore through muscle, and I heard my son's yelp of pain cut through the chaos.
Nate was there in an instant, druid magic crackling across his rust-colored fur like green lightning. He hit the corrupted wolf with enough force to break its hold on Evan, his jaws finding the back of its neck. Magic poured from him into the wound—I could see it, silver-green light that burned like acid—and the corrupted wolf screamed. Actually screamed, a sound no wolf should make, before it too dissolved into shadow.
But more kept coming.
They poured through gaps in the ward-line that Gideon couldn't close fast enough, coordinated and relentless. Six became eight. Eight became ten. They moved with military precision, targeting the weakest wolves first, trying to separate us and pick us off one by one.
Jonah took a corrupted wolf to the ground, his jaws locked around its throat, but another hit him from behind. Claws raked down his spine, opened him from shoulder to hip, and blood sprayed across frozen ground. He howled—rage and pain—but didn't let go of his target even as his own blood soaked the earth.
Mason lunged in to help, caught the attacking wolf by the leg and twisted. I heard bone snap, heard the wolf's snarl turn into something closer to a shriek. Mason's teeth found belly, tore through corrupted flesh, and disemboweled it in one vicious pull.
Both corrupted wolves dissolved, but Jonah was down, bleeding, trying to stand on legs that wouldn't hold him.
Alaric darted in—smaller, faster, using speed over strength—and positioned himself over Jonah's fallen form. Protecting. When a corrupted wolf lunged for them, Alaric met it head-on, all teeth and desperate courage, and somehow held the line long enough for Sienna to hit it from the side.
She was magnificent. Even injured, even with blood streaming from the gash across her shoulder, she fought like something feral and unstoppable. Her jaws found the corrupted wolf's spine, bit down, and I heard vertebrae crack like gunshots.
But there were still too many.
Another broke through the left flank, heading straight for where Michael stood behind the ward-line. My heart stopped. Time slowed to syrup-thick seconds as I watched it leap, watched those empty eyes lock onto my mate with the kind of single-minded focus that meant death.
Michael didn't run.
He shifted his stance and brought the silver blade up in a defensive arc. The corrupted wolf's momentum carried it forward onto the blade, silver sinking deep into corrupted flesh, and it screamed.
Michael twisted the blade, drove it deeper, used the wolf's own weight against it. Then he ripped the silver free in a spray of black blood and shadow, and the corrupted wolf dissolved before it hit the ground.
He was breathing hard, splattered in corruption and ash, but his hands were steady on the blade and his eyes were fierce. Alive. Fighting.
Pride surged through me so strong it hurt.
Another corrupted wolf came at him from a different angle, but Gideon was there. The witch's hands snapped forward and golden light exploded outward in a barrier that caught the wolf mid-leap. It slammed into the magic and recoiled, snarling, but Gideon didn't stop. He twisted his wrists and the barrier became chains, became a cage of light that wrapped around the corrupted wolf and bore it to the ground.
“Stay down,” Gideon growled, and power thrummed through his voice like thunder.
The wolf thrashed, eyes empty and awful, and then dissolved into shadow.
