Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve proven yourself unfit to lead, Marcus. Step down… or be forced down.”
A snarl tore from my lips, the wolf within me begging to assert its dominance. “For your sake, Thomas, I hope you’re successful.”
As if on cue, the werewolves behind Thomas advanced, and the cave erupted into chaos.
Joanna stepped forward, her stance ready for battle. I turned to her, issuing a direct order. “Take cover with the young werewolves. Protect them.”
She hesitated, her eyes scanning the escalating fight. “But—”
“Go!” I commanded, my voice leaving no room for argument. She nodded and hurried to the back of the cave, gathering the young shapeshifters and shepherding them to safety.
I turned back to the fight, my wolf howling within me. I tore off my jacket, muscles bulging as I shifted, my wolf’s form merging with my human body, creating a hybrid figure of power. I lunged at the nearest traitor, my jaws snapping, my claws ripping through flesh.
Bodies fell around me, blood staining the stone floor. Those loyal to the pack fought valiantly, their devotion unwavering. But the opposition was fierce, their eagerness to remove me from leadership driving them to ruthless violence as they struck down their own brothers and sisters.
The sounds of battle filled the cave—snarls, growls, and the crack of breaking bones. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, the metallic tang coating my tongue. My heart pounded, the thrill of the fight coursing through my veins.
Maya’s commanding barks cut through the chaos as she directed her warriors. She fought with the ferocity of a mother defending her pups, her body a blur of movement as she took down one opponent after another.
I spotted Thomas across the chamber, his human eyes wild as he stared at me through the sea of bodies.
I fought my way toward him, my hands aching to snake around his throat, when a sudden crash caught my attention.
A torch had been knocked over, its flames licking the dry bramble and spreading rapidly across the tapestries that adorned the cave walls.
“Brian, now!”
My eyes narrowed at the sound of Thomas barking orders at the wolf. Sending Brian to do his bidding while he positioned himself out of harm’s way? Coward.
As Brian charged at me, I braced myself, my muscles tensing to prepare for the impact. He collided with me, his weight and momentum knocking me back a step. But he was no match for the alpha. I gripped his shoulders, my claws digging into his flesh as I steadied myself.
Brian snarled, his teeth snapping mere inches from my face. Desperation filled his eyes. He knew his fight was in vain, yet he fought on, driven by Thomas’s persuasions. I almost pitied him. Almost.
I leaned back, avoiding his snapping jaws, and brought my knee up, catching him in the stomach. The air whooshed out of him, and he doubled over, his grip on me loosening. I brought my elbow down on his back, sending him crashing to the ground.
He lay there, too stunned to move, save for lowering his head in submission. I could have finished him, could have ended his life with a swift blow. But I wasn’t like Thomas. I didn’t kill indiscriminately, nor did I punish those who were merely misled.
I turned away from Brian, my eyes scanning the chaos for Thomas. He stood at the edge of the fight, his jaw slack as he realized his plan was failing. Our gazes locked, and I saw the fear in his eyes. He knew he was next.
“Lucas!” Joanna’s scream made my breath hitch. I found her and followed her gaze.
Through the smoke, I saw Lucas frozen in fear, trapped by the encroaching flames. His eyes were wide with panic, his body trembling.
Before I could run to him, Joanna darted through the carnage. Barefoot, she dodged the werewolves in her way, her movements swift.
When she was mere feet from Lucas, a rogue stepped in front of her, the smile on his face making my blood boil. Instead of cowering in fear, Joanna glanced around before her gaze landed on the banquet table.
Fixing her eyes on the werewolf, she side-dashed toward the table, grabbing a handful of forks and knives. As the rogue charged, she hurled the utensils at him with such force that each found its mark in his skin. He slowed, cursing in pain. None of the utensils were silver, so he would live. That was probably why Joanna hiked up her dress and ran toward him, flipping onto his shoulders.
With a knife still clenched in her hand, she slammed her fist down again and again—into his eyes, his ears, his neck—until the werewolf dropped to his knees.
Joanna hopped off the rogue’s shoulders just before he fell face-down in the dirt. Without hesitation, she leaped through the flames, her hand connecting with Lucas’s cheek in an urgent slap.
“Snap out of it!” she shouted. “Lucas, take the young wolves and run!”
Lucas blinked, his fear breaking like a spell as Joanna pushed him through the flames. She readied herself to follow, but before she could, Leo lunged from behind, his claws aimed at her back.
“Joanna!” I roared, but it was too late.
