He’s not dying here, and he’s not being taken from Astrid just as he entered her life.
And certainly not from me.
Chapter 28 - Caleb
Everything narrows to the taste of blood in my mouth and the involuntary tremor running through Dawson’s body beneath my weight. His pulse is frantic under my jaws, panting as he lies there, waiting for the killing blow.
As easily as I could tear and rip, finishing the job, I don’t kill him.
I hold him there long enough for every wolf watching to understand exactly who won, and what a finished man looks like before mercy is given. The low growl continues to reverberate in my chest as I force his surrender, and I feel as the others start to slowly back away.
When I finally release him, Dawson collapses onto his side as he pulls in deeper breaths, scrambling back while he waits for his natural healing to kick in. With some trouble, he eventually stands, keeping his head bowed in submission.
Even if he could try again, he doesn’t challenge me again, and he doesn’t even look at my pack behind me.
Good.
Standing taller than before, my chest heaves as blood trickles from the various tears in my flank, and my muscles shake subtly with the last threads of adrenaline. Exhaustion wraps around every bone, but I force myself to stay where I am.
Around us, the Wraith Peak wolves pull back into the trees, slow at first until they see that Dawson no longer has the strength or authority to command anything. Some of them yip and howl, leaving a chill of uncertainty in the air. They split off, likely already communicating among themselves about what this means.
I may have spared him as a warning, but that doesn’t mean his pack will be merciful to him in the face of his weakened state. That fate is in their hands now, not mine.
Perhaps that’s the greatest karma of all—being torn apart by the very chaos nurtured throughout his reign.
One by one, their scents fade off in the wind, and despite still being in their territory, the forest starts to feel normal again, and less oppressive than it had been. The threat is still there, lingering in the background, but it’s subdued for now.
As I turn around to face the others, I’m met with pure submission and respect as they subtly bow their heads. For a long moment, seeing my pack ready to follow me eases the pain coursing through me. While the guys don’t bow, they nod, and that’s enough for me.
More importantly, Lila stands in the middle of the group, eyes still wide with a mixture of concern, relief, and awe.
She’s all I focus on, well aware of how the bond hums between us, stronger and healthier than it ever has been.
Everyone can head home now… we won’t be long.
I send through the pack-wide connection as my attention stays on Lila and the way she looks at me like I’ve finally proven myself. My dedication.
When the others disband, heading south in their wolf forms, I initiate my shift, feeling the pain hit me differently now. It throbs all over as I change back, kicking my healing into the next gear to close my wounds up.
Dirt and dried blood cling to my skin, but as I rake a hand through my hair, my breathing steadies, and I start to feel more like myself again. It’s a slow recovery, but manageable.
I won… but in a way, it doesn’t feel like a complete victory. Not while Lila stands there, still pale and shaking, surely exhausted from using whatever leftover magic she had in her.
When it’s just the two of us, her eyes search mine as if she’s afraid of what I’ll say, or what I’ll think—what I’ll do now that the fight is over.
I’m approaching her before I can come up with the answers myself, and her breath catches before she averts her gaze, seemingly expecting me to be angry.
Maybe I should be. Magic use is forbidden here. It’s dangerous, unpredictable, and it undermines the Alpha’s authority. It has been seen as a stain in our lines for as far back as they go, thanks to crossbreeding.
That’s what I’ve been told my entire life, and once, I believed it completely.
But Dawson fought dirty, even before the fight began. He was willing to put his entire pack at risk just to take my mate and child from me, and given the way he talked about Astrid’s magic, he would’ve used it to his advantage. I know for a fact he would’ve killed me with it if he had the chance.
And despite knowing the risks of exposing magic, Lila used it to save my life. To save both Astrid and herself.
Even if a small part of me still twitches with an old instinct that tells me to keep it hidden, the memory of that burst of strength feels nothing like corruption or something evil. It didn’t feel like a curse.
It just felt like Lila. A natural part of her that she never had any say in, and something she can’t change. The same goes for Astrid.
