“They’re adapting!” Dawson snarls, his wolf staggering backward as claws rake across his flank, blood steaming on the snow.
Yvonne blasts the demon that attacked her mate with her magic, and Willow follows with a lightning bolt of gold magic that turns the demon to ashes.
Rissa calls out, “They’re siphoning energy from the traps! We can’t contain them this way anymore!”
The ground erupts as one of the traps on the ground implodes, light scattering like shattered glass. A column of fire shoots skyward, and Rissa throws up a shield just in time to deflect the debris. The demons pour through the gap like spilled black ink.
“Fall back to the east line!” I shout as I switch back to human form, my rifle swinging from my shoulder. Silver rounds whistle through the air, cutting through three demons to hold them off before a massive shadow blocks my aim. The largest demon I've ever seen steps forward like the leader of them all, twice my size, molten veins crawling beneath its black skin. Its grin is pure malice.
It doesn’t flinch when I shoot it.
It absorbs the bullet.
Before I can react by shifting into wolf form, its clawed hand swings out, catching me square in the chest. The world flips, pain slicing my ribs as I crash through a pine trunk. I hit the snow hard, lungs screaming for air.
“Thane!” Willow's voice beats through the ringing in my eardrums. A blinding flash of gold light fizzles through the air, furious and unforgiving.
Her power arcs through the clearing, colliding with the malevolent demon and sending it crashing backward.
But it rises again, smoke curling over its wounds.
Willow gasps, her face paling with horror. The clearing is littered with fighting—werewolves battling it out with demons and falling as they fail.
They're failing.
Weare failing.
My head snaps in the direction of the large demon, the most menacing one we've ever faced, watching in horror as it stalks toward Willow.
“Run, Willow! Magic won't work on this one!” I belt out at the top of my lungs, meeting Willow's terrified eyes.
“I'm sorry, Thane!”
“Get out of here, Willow!” I shout as I push through the pain, throwing my rifle out of my hand and leaping forward to plant myself in the snow between my mate and the treacherous creature.
I glance over my shoulder, relieved when I see Willow running back toward Elias's house across the field, hair wild, eyes wide with panic.
At least she didn't fight me, and my consolation in this disaster is knowing that my mate will be safe, even when the terrifying beast charges toward me.
I fight hard to dodge its attacks, trying my best to hold it off until we can devise some kind of plan.
“Any ideas, guys?”I call out through the mind link. “Willow's magic is no match for this one. If I'm not careful, it's gonna rip me to shreds.”
“We got you, Thane!”Brooks calls out, growling as he and Dawson come to my aid. Elias is charging forward, too, but stops in his tracks when a child's muffled cries can be heard in the air, echoing like a scream for help. Aurora cries out for her child, pained, tortured, dropping to her knees mid-battle.
When Rissa blasts the demon, I'm trying to hold off with green bolts of magic, I turn to see baby Emile suspended midair by a demon. He's covered in whiffs of moving black smoke that hold him up like a menacing embrace.
Yvonne plants both palms to the earth, her voice trembling from the strain. “We can’t hold them much longer!”
“Then we don’t hold,” Elias growls beside me, his wolf bleeding from the shoulder. “We fight!” His determination is reignited by the sight of his mate and their son suspended in the air.
The forest becomes a blur of fur, flame, and magic. Wolves tear through the horde of demons, while witches summon storms of color that split the dark in ribbons of emerald and silver. But every victory is temporary, the demons reforming, mutating, adapting.
I drive my claws through one’s chest, its body turning to vapor even as another takes its place. The smell of old oil fills the air, the snow turning black beneath our feet.
The chanting behind me stops me mid-attack, earning me a thunderous slash to the shoulder that sends me spiraling toward Willow. I crash at her feet with a whimper, but she doesn't tear her golden and blue gaze from the battlefield.
She continues chanting in an ancient tone, a language only our ancestors could speak, wielding magic in her hands where she's holding a vial of the white potion in one, and the alpha blood in the other.
