Julian’s voice followed her, distant now, “Layla!” The sound turned into a roar as he shifted back, paws thundering after her.
But she wasn’t listening.
The cold burned her lungs, her eyes, her skin. Every breath tasted of smoke and blood. The closer she got, the clearer the battle became, she could see faces now, could hear the guttural sounds of pain and rage. A Nordan wolf went down in front of her, his throat torn open, his body half-buried in the snow, before he stopped moving.
Layla gagged, stumbling past him. Her stomach twisted violently, but she didn’t stop.
“Dominic!” she screamed, though her voice was lost in the storm.
Another hybrid lunged at her from the side, its claws flashing. Before she could even raise her arms, a dark blur collided with it, a wolf, black-furred and massive, tackling the creature to the ground. They rolled, teeth and claws and blood, until the hybrid went still.
The wolf turned his head, silver eyes catching hers for a heartbeat. Recognition flared, then he was gone again, disappearing back into the fray.
She ran faster.
The snow thickened, swirling in wild, chaotic gusts. Every shadow moved; every sound became a warning. Her heart pounded in her throat. She tripped, hit the ground hard, scrambled back up. The world had narrowed to one thing, one person, onewolf, somewhere ahead.
When she reached the edge of the main clearing, she stopped, breath ragged. The cave mouth loomed, jagged and black, and in front of it, surrounded by bodies, his chest heaving, his teeth dripping red, was Dominic.
He looked up as if he’d heard her through the noise and the blood and the chaos. Their eyes met across the snow.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Layla’s heart twisted, her fear burning away into something fierce and wild. The world around her blurred; only his eyes remained, sharp against the storm.
And sheknew.
If she didn’t do something, they were all going to die.
“Dominic!”
The sound of her voice cut through the chaos like a flare, lost to the wind. He hadn’t seen her.
Wolves tore through the snow, black and white and silver shapes slashing at the monsters that poured from the mountain’s mouth. The hybrids were endless, twisted things of fur and sinew, their eyes sickly yellow in the storm light. They shrieked as they lunged, half-human, half-beast.
Layla stumbled through it all, her boots sinking into the churned snow, her hair wild with frost. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Every step felt heavier than the last, every breath rawagainst her lungs. She could taste iron, could smell the metallic tang of blood and ozone.
The storm had thickened, swallowing sound and shape alike. The world was reduced to flashes.
She pressed her back against a fallen rock, gasping, and dared to look up.
Dominic was still standing.
He was a shadow in motion, cutting through the hybrids like a blade of living darkness. He fought like something born for this place, all speed and brutality, no hesitation, no mercy.
But even he was slowing.
The hybrids were too many. They crawled and leapt and tore from every crevice in the stone. For every one Dominic felled, another three poured from the mine behind them. Their numbers swelled until the white of the snow was blotted with black and red.
And still they came.
Layla’s stomach turned cold.There are too many.
Arthur’s wolves were retreating in waves now, flanking and falling back, regrouping only to be driven apart again. The Nanuq were losing their line, their white coats slick with red, their howls filled with pain and defiance.
A flash of movement made her spin. A hybrid lunged from the side, claws sweeping. She barely ducked in time, the blow catching her shoulder and spinning her to the ground. Snow filled her mouth. She gagged, coughed, rolled.
A blur of black thundered past her, Dominic.
