“Now,” I snapped and my pack launched.
The impact of shifter meeting shifter hit like thunder—bodies colliding, claws scraping, snarls ripping through the air. I crashed into the nearest attacker. We rolled once, twice, teeth flashing. He tried to go for my throat. He didn’t succeed. My jaws clamped around his shoulder, and I felt the crunch of bone. He screamed, scrambling to get away.
My pack shouted information to me throughout the skirmish. It soon became clear that this scouting party wasn’t here to win. They were here to gauge us and see how long we could hold the line.
Diesel sped past, slamming a wolf into a tree so hard that the bark split. Killian tore another wolf off a smaller member of the pack before the bastard could do much damage.
Throughout the line, wolves howled, and the Pack Council’s shifters fell back as the ridge held. Too soon, the Council wolves retreated, bleeding and staggering back into the trees.
The others followed—not dead, but injured. Shaken and surprised that we were prepared to fight back. I wondered if they had been so arrogant they didn’t expect resistance ordiscipline.
I shifted back to human form as they disappeared into the dark. The whole ridge waited—panting wolves, the air thick with the kind of tense silence that comes after the first test of war.
Diesel approached, blood streaked across his jaw, eyes burning. “That was the soft tap on the door,” he said.
Killian nodded grimly. “They were measuring our defenses.”
I looked down at the churned earth, the broken branches, the blood soaking into the Hollow. “No,” I said. “They were measuring me.”
Diesel spat onto the ground. “What’d you show them?”
I met his gaze. “That I don’t break.” I held his stare.
A howl rose from the eastern flank—a signal from our patrol there.
Killian stiffened. “They’re regrouping.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Let them try again.” The Hollow pulsed beneath my feet—a heartbeat, ancient and waiting.
War had started, and we’d told them exactly what kind of alpha stood between them and this land.
“Diesel? Hunt the bastards down. We’ll meet you on the other side.”
Diesel didn’t need to hear anything else—he charged into the trees, shifting mid-stride, a streak of muscle and fury vanishing into the dark. I grinned darkly. He hunted best when he was pissed.
Killian moved up beside me, breath still heavy from the fight. “You want me on the flank?”
“No,” I said, scanning the tree line. “Take two teams. Sweep the ridge. Anyone still breathing and not sworn to the Hollow or Emberfell goes under the dirt.”
Killian nodded once. Grim. Efficient. He shifted, his wolf bursting out of him, and the warriors behind us followed—eight bodies dropping to all fours and surging into the night after him.
That left me with a smaller group—just enough for a line, not enough to be caught if the Council had a second wave hiding just out of sight. I scented the air, my chest rising as my wolf flared again.
I could smell fear and blood. But not from us. Not from my pack. “They weren’t ready for us,” I muttered.
A younger shifter, Perry, swallowed. “Alpha, they’ll be back.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder, steady but firm. “Of course they will. But now they know what they’re walking into.” He straightened up, squared his shoulders. Fear wasn’t the problem. Fear without leadership was.
I lifted my head, scanning the tree line black as pitch. The Hollow wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t calm.
It was awake—a slow, rolling pressure in the earth that matched my pulse, humming beneath my skin as if it sensed the threat and was waiting for the next strike.
A low growl rumbled in my chest as my pack fed me information through our mindlink. “They’re testing the borders,” I said aloud. “Trying to find the weak points.”
“Do we have any?” Perry asked.
“Not tonight.”
