Julian risked a glance through the crack in the wall. “Three. Maybe four. Hybrids.”
Dominic’s grip tightened on his knife. “We take them.”
Julian’s hand shot out, catching his wrist before he could move. “No.”
Dominic glared at him. “They’re right there.”
“And if we attack, we learn nothing.” Julian’s voice was a whisper. “You want to hunt them? Then listen.”
Dominic hesitated, jaw clenched, fury barely contained.
Julian released him slowly, cautiously. “Patience, Alpha.”
Dominic forced himself still, every instinct screaming to break cover.
Outside, the hybrids passed between the ruined buildings, their movements jerky but purposeful. One sniffed the air, too close. Another laughed, high and gleeful.
“…soft wolves,” one of them hissed, words thick and slurred, “…the Alpha’s no warrior, not like his father, his pack’s next…”
Dominic’s blood went cold, then hot.
Julian’s eyes flicked to him, warning silent but sharp.
Dominic didn’t move. Not yet.
The hybrids lingered a few minutes longer, muttering in their strange voices, then moved on, vanishing into the trees the way they’d come.
Only when the last sound faded did Julian lower his weapon.
Dominic exhaled hard, the air shaking with restraint. “You should’ve let me kill them.”
Julian straightened, calm as ever. “And lose the trail they just gave us? No. Let them think they’re unseen. They’ll lead us to the main settlement.”
Dominic’s jaw worked, but he didn’t argue.
He stepped out into the open again, scanning the forest where the hybrids had disappeared. Snow fell harder now, erasing their tracks almost immediately.
Julian joined him, watching quietly. “We’ll need to move fast if we want to follow them. But not tonight.”
Dominic didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the dark line of the trees.
He could still hear their laughter. Still feel the ghost of their words.
His hand tightened on the knife until his knuckles whitened.
“Next time,” he said softly.
Julian’s mouth curved faintly in the moonlight.
Chapter 4 - Layla
Layla slammed the chalk down into the altar with a growl, white powder skittering away.
“Every time,” she practically spat, “I get so close, and then…”
She didn’t finish.
There was no point. She’d failed again.
