“Alpha Dane.” His voice carries unnaturally across the clearing, reaching both groups with perfect clarity. “Do you understand yet? Do you see what I’ve built?”
The purple light intensifies, and Marcus’s body goes rigid. Derek’s eyes flash with panic—not aggression, butfear. Torres tries to step back, but his legs won’t obey. Elena’s face twists with confusion and mounting terror.
“No—“ Marcus’s voice breaks with horror. “No, this isn’t what I wanted. I just thought—I was trying to help—”
“Shh.” Faelan’s gesture is almost paternal. “You’ve done beautifully. Questioned his leadership. Pulled wolves away. Created the perfect fracture.” His amber eyes gleam with cruelsatisfaction. “Division was always the weapon. You were simply too useful to waste.”
Magic surges visible now—sickly purple tendrils wrapping around Marcus’s faction like puppet strings, sinking into their skin, their eyes.
“Stop!” I roar, Alpha command crashing through the clearing.
But Faelan’s magic is older, deeper. Rooted in the very fracture Marcus helped create.
Derek’s wolf form ripples, his body fighting the compulsion even as it forces him forward. His eyes lock with mine across the clearing, and I see the desperate plea there:I’m sorry. I can’t stop this. Please understand.
Torres’s movements turn jerky, wrong—a wolf controlled by something outside himself as he angles toward Wyatt’s last known position.
Elena lunges in our direction, her normally graceful form twisted by the magic driving her. Not toward Faelan. Towardus.
Mateo’s young face contorts with confusion and horror as his body moves against his will.
Marcus himself takes a step toward me. Then another. Every movement a visible battle. His lips pull back from his teeth, but tears streak from his eyes—wolf eyes that hold nothing but devastation and betrayal.
This is what Faelan wanted all along.
The rest of the pack bursts from the tree line—Wyatt, Ben, Callum, the others—and chaos erupts. Compelled wolves clash with loyal ones. Not a battle. A nightmare.
Nova’s fingers find mine, urgent. “The source. We have to cut it at the source or they’ll kill each other.”
She’s right. Faelan’s here, but he’s alsothere—in the Fade, controlling this through the breach. Fighting his puppets won’t stop this.
“Go!” Wyatt’s voice cuts through the chaos as he intercepts Derek mid-lunge. “We’ll hold them! End this!”
Nova’s hand tightens on mine. The breach pulses, responding to her mark.
“Together,” she says.
We step through.
Reality tears. The world inverts. And the Fade swallows us whole.
Chapter 37
Callum
Iwatch Marcus’s faction attack with movements that aren’t theirs—jerky, wrong, like puppets on strings. Derek lunges at Wyatt, and I see the horror in Derek’s eyes even as his jaws snap.
“Fight it!” Wyatt roars.
But the compulsion holds. Packmate fights packmate. Not a battle. Butchery.
We’re losing.
Ben staggers back from Derek’s attack, bleeding from his shoulder. Wyatt goes down hard when Torres catches him from behind. Reyna barely dodges Elena’s claws—the wolf she trained, now trying to kill her.
I shift to intercept Derek as he circles back toward Ben. He’s exhausted, movements slowing. We can’t keep this up. Faelan’smagic drives Marcus’s faction with inhuman endurance while we tire with every exchange.
The clearing reeks of blood. Pack blood. Wolves fighting wolves while Faelan watches from the breach, feeding off the violence he orchestrated.
