“Wolfe—" The bond surged with emotion and love, so much love. “I love you too. Come back to me.”
“That’s the plan, princess.”
I turned to Diesel, who met my gaze with his steady stare. He gave me a questioning look, and when I nodded, he clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go kill the bastards,” he growled.
“And scatter their bones on Stonefang so they never find rest.” My voice was full of grim resolve.
Killian nodded. “So they never find rest,” he agreed. “Grandmother will like that.”
She would.
We moved quickly to the eastern boundary. The pack was aware of the plan: Diesel and I would leave the Hollow’s packlands, and in doing so, our boundary would be open to them. That’s why I wasn’t pulling any more of my fighters to the eastern ridge. Each station would hold as planned. Every patrol would keep their line.
There would be no surprise attacks. No slipping through the trees. No blind spots. Not tonight. We had to assume Axel told them everything—routes, rotations, strengths, weaknesses. We had to assume this attack was based on our stolen secrets.
By Diesel and me stepping out, we would offer them the way in.
“Straight through us.”
The air rippled with tension, the kind that crawls along your spine and tightens your jaw. Diesel’s wolf growled low beside me, sensing the same thing I did.
Footsteps, weight shifting, breath carried by the wind.
We knew they were out there. Waiting. Thinking they were hunting us, not realizing we were about to invite them in through the front door.
I wanted them close. I wanted them confident. I wanted to draw them to me, leading them to their deaths. I wanted them blind to the fact that they were already standing in their graves.
Diesel eased forward, nose into the wind, muscles tensed. The forest seemed to hold its breath. A twig snapped. A shadow moved.
I shared a look with Diesel, my tongue rolling out in a wolfish smile. “See you on the other side, brother.”
I leapt into the night, the ground rushing past me as I charged forward and collided with the first two attackers.
My pack mirrored the motion beside me, one synchronized surge—and we rushed through the forest. Then I heard the first scream as it tore through the night. Not one of my pack. The first blood wasn’t mine, and by Luna, I’d spill plenty of their blood tonight.
The ground blurred beneath me as I ran forward and slammed into the first two attackers. Bone met bone. Teeth tore flesh. Blood hit the air in hot metallic bursts. Killian was at my flank, his wolf a blur of fury. Diesel hammered into the enemy line on the opposite side, vicious and unrelenting.
The forest was dense with Pack Council wolves. Too many to just be the soldiers of the Pack Council and their betas. The Council had sent warriors—seasoned ones. They’d pulled alphas and other packs into this war againstus. The first wave hit our outer line like a battering ram. Not rogues. Not desperate wolves.
These were fighters who understood formation, rhythm, and brutality. My wolf charged forward to confront them. I wanted this fight. I wanted them to feel the pain I felt. To understand the loss we’d endured. To taste the reality that this pack would not be dictated to by them.
We did not fear them.
One of their males lunged at me, snarling with fangs aimed at my throat. I rolled, using his momentum against him and threw him into the dirt, teeth clamped on the tendon behind his shoulder. He howled and went limp instantly.
Killian’s voice cracked through the mindlink. “Left flank breaking—pushing them back—need support?—"
“On it.”
I pushed off the ground and charged toward the left line. Our wolves held their ground, but just barely. The Council’s fighters were disciplined, relentless, and pressed in tight formations designed to break packs weaker than ours.
They should’ve done their homework.
Diesel’s wolf tore through the enemy’s backline like a storm, scattering their formation. Killian and I hit the front at the same time, and the three of us slammed into them hard enough to break their line completely.
Wolves howled as bodies hit the ground, and my pack surged with renewed ferocity. We pushed them back in a brutal wave, step by bloody step, forcing them downhill and retreating.
I heard the howl on the night air. The Pack Council’s retreat call.
