She took his arm then, tugging him towards the mountain trail, her expression pleading. “Julian, we need to go. Now.”
Julian seemed to be weighing up the options, eyes narrow as he looked between the mountain looming above them and her small, desperate frame.
“Fine,” he said, “fine. Dominic will likely kill me, but if your vision is right—”
“Then we’re already running out of time,” she said, releasing his arm and starting towards the mountain. “Come on!”
He growled, shifting smoothly into a wolf, dark paws thudding into the earth, claws scraping through the mud. He settled down, lowering his shoulders. Sucking in a breath, Layla grasped handfuls of fur and heaved herself up, scrambling to steady herself.
Julian huffed and stood, shaking out his head. Her stomach swooped as the ground fell away from her.
She knew how big the wolves were. She’d grown up around them. But still, it was always terrifying to be so close to one and not even be tall enough to reach its shoulder.
With a growl that she translated to mean something along the lines ofhold on tight, Julian shot off into the trees, Skymist fading away behind them.
Chapter 23 - Dominic
The mountain breathed.
Wind swept down from the peaks in long, whistling sighs, dragging snow in ghostly veils over the trees. Beneath the sound, there was the steady drum of paw beats, soft, deliberate, endless. Two packs moved as one: the dark-furred Volkhov and the pale Nordan, their bodies low, eyes bright, their breath steaming in the cold.
At their head ran Dominic.
His coat was black as obsidian, his shoulders broad, his paws carving deep into the snow. The pain in his chest was still there, dull but constant, a steady pulse beneath the rhythm of his stride. He ignored it.
“Keep moving,”he snarled to the wolves nearest him, “Stay in formation.”
A chorus of affirmations answered him, quick flickers of thought, of deference. Behind him, Arthur growled.
“You should have stayed at home, boy.”
Dominic didn’t slow. “My place is here.”
“You’re injured.”
“I’m fine.”
A rumble of amusement answered him,“Aye, if you say so.”
Dominic’s lip curled, revealing his teeth to the wind,“Concentrate on the mission, Arthur. In and out. We put them down before they have the chance to attack again.”
Arthur huffed and fell silent again.
The packs continued their descent from the peak of the mountain. The snow deepened, swallowing the sound of their movement. The air grew colder until every breath burned. Dominic pushed through it, eyes fixed on the slope ahead, on the dark cleft in the mountainside below that loomed like a wound.
Somewhere, deep below, something was stirring.
Every head lifted. Hackles rose. The smell was wrong, sharp, metallic, and old.
“Hold,”Dominic ordered, slowing to a stop as they approached the entrance to the mines. It squatted, low and wide, supported by crooked beams. Snow swirled around him, rustling through his fur. He lowered his muzzle to the ground, nostrils flaring.
Blood. Wolf. Cold. Death.
Arthur padded up beside him, his own massive form ghost-white beneath the snow,“Can you smell them?”
“Can you?”
Arthur’s ears flicked, “I think so. It’s hidden far beneath the rock.”
