It thrashes again, stronger than most wolves, and the fight explodes into a vicious tangle of bites and claws.
Its claws rake across my shoulder as we slam through the underbrush, teeth snapping inches from my muzzle. I twist hard and drive my weight into its ribs, forcing it sideways across the leaf-slick ground. The clearing fills with the sound of snarls and tearing brush, the violence sharp enough to make the trees seem to lean away.
Then the forest answers with bootsteps and pawfalls.
Wolves break through the treeline in both directions, drawn by the noise and the scent of blood. I catch flashes of familiar faces in my peripheral vision, pack enforcers fanning out alongthe clearing edge. Mixed among them are harder stares and unfamiliar postures, wolves who do not step forward to assist.
Not all of them are mine.
The rogue has his own loyalists.
He twists beneath my grip with sudden ferocity, hind legs driving hard against my chest. We crash apart, both of us landing in low, braced stances, chests heaving. Across the clearing, Cassidy pushes onto one elbow, dazed but conscious, her scent sharp with adrenaline.
She’s too exposed and too vulnerable.
My wolf surges forward again, but this time instinct collides with strategy. I can end the fight, but not before more witnesses arrive. The council will hear about this within minutes. Gideon will dissect every movement, every choice, every hesitation involving the human biologist already under scrutiny.
Cassidy cannot remain unclaimed in the middle of this.
The realization locks into place with cold clarity.
The rogue lunges again, teeth flashing.
I meet the attack head-on, but instead of driving for the throat, I pivot hard and slam my shoulder into its chest. The impact knocks it sideways, buying a fraction of space. In the same motion, I force the shift partially upward, bones grinding as muscle and skin begin to rearrange.
Pain flares hot.
I ignore it.
Fur recedes along my shoulders and arms, hands reforming enough for grip while my lower body and teeth remain wolf-steady. It is not a clean shift, but it does not need to be. I need speed, not elegance.
Cassidy looks up just as I move.
Her eyes widen slightly, confusion and relief colliding in her expression. She starts to push herself upright, breath still raggedfrom the tackle. The rogue regains its footing behind me, claws digging into the dirt as it prepares to launch again.
I reach her first.
My hand-paws close around the back of her neck, firm but controlled, pulling her toward me. She inhales sharply, the sound soft and startled, and her fingers catch briefly at my shoulder for balance.
“Alden—”
I do not give her time to finish. My teeth sink into the side of her neck.
The world narrows to the bond.
Heat slams through me the instant skin breaks, sharp and electric, the mate bond roaring fully awake in a way it has only hinted at before. Cassidy gasps against me, the sound breaking into something softer as her body arches instinctively into the contact.
Mine.
The word is not spoken aloud, but it reverberates through every nerve I have.
Her hands slide up, fingers tangling briefly at the back of my neck as if pulled by the same force. The scent of her shifts immediately, sweet and bright and unmistakably marked by me now. For one dangerous second, everything else falls away.
Cassidy makes a soft, breathless sound against my shoulder, and her grip tightens before her body suddenly slackens. Her weight drops heavily into my arms as consciousness gives way beneath the impact of the bite.
The clearing goes dead silent.
I lift my head slowly, breath rough, senses snapping back into brutal clarity. Across the clearing, the rogue has gone still, golden eyes fixed on us with something that looks dangerously close to understanding.
