The light vanished.
The connection broke.
Layla’s hands fell to her sides, her body crumpling forward into the snow. The edges of her vision darkened.
“No,” she whispered, “not yet—”
Through the fog of her failing sight, she saw Dominic turn toward her, his movements jerky, panicked. He tore himself free of the last hybrid, blood streaking his fur, and bounded across the clearing.
She wanted to tell him to stop, to stay away, tofinish it, but no sound came.
Her body wouldn’t move. Her power was gone, burned out. She was empty, hollowed.
Dominic skidded to a stop beside her. His chest heaved, his fur matted with blood and snow. He nudged her shoulder once, twice, desperate. His breath was hot against her cheek.
“Dominic,” she tried to say, but her voice was gone.
He looked up, ears pinned back, silver eyes bright with something raw. Fury, terror. Love. He turned in a tight circle, pacing, the snow churning under his paws. The other wolves were falling back, the hybrids regrouping, the rumbling above them deepening into a roar.
Something broke inside him.
Layla saw it happen, saw the way his body stiffened, the way his chest expanded like he’d swallowed the storm itself. The ache that had haunted him for days seemed to reach its breaking point.
He lifted his head.
And howled.
It wasn’t a sound. It was a force.
The note that tore from his throat split the air, split the earth, spliteverything.It wasn’t just wolf; it was far, far more. The sound of command, of fury, of grief, of the storm itself.
The very mountain seemed to answer him.
Snow exploded from the peaks above, a vast, roaring wave. The hybrids screamed, their voices drowned beneath the thunder. The ground heaved, stone cracking apart as the cave mouth began to collapse.
Layla stared upward, awe and terror mingling as white swallowed the sky.
The wolves broke away, scattering for cover.
Dominic turned back to her.
The world was ending, and yet he was calm, impossibly calm. He bent his head low, teeth catching her cloak, lifting her with impossible care.
“No,” she tried to say, “leave me—”
He didn’t listen.
With a powerful leap, he was moving, muscles coiling and releasing beneath her weight, snow flying as he ran. The avalanche thundered down behind them, the roar deafening, the air a blinding white maelstrom.
Layla clung to consciousness, her fingers curling weakly in his fur. Her vision swam, snow, wind, dark fur, ice-blue eyes glinting silver.
“Dominic,” she breathed.
He didn’t look back.
The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was the fading echo of his howl, rolling through the mountains like the voice of a god.
Chapter 25 - Layla
