Vulnerability flickered in her expression—and gratitude, and a deeper emotion that made his ribs ache. And in that moment, looking at her, Theo realized a truth that should have terrified him but didn’t.
He would die for her. Not because he was the alpha, or because protecting was what he did, but because a world without her in it wasn’t one he wanted to survive.
When had that happened? When had she become more essential than breathing?
“Then let’s do this.”
THIRTY-FOUR
THEO
Theo shifted.
The transformation was fast—faster than usual, fueled by adrenaline and the primal need to protect. One moment, he was a man; the next, a massive gray wolf stood in his place, easily the size of a small horse, muscles bunched and ready beneath thick fur.
He positioned himself between Avine and the Matrix, drawing on every shred of pack magic he could reach. The barrier he erected was invisible to the eye but solid as stone—layers of protective energy woven from generations of wolf instinct and alpha strength.
The Matrix screamed.
Energy lashed out, slamming into his barrier with enough force to make him stagger. Pain flared along his nerves—not physical, but magical, the Matrix trying to tear through his defenses to reach the ley lines beyond. He dug his claws into the workshop floor and held.
Behind him, Avine raised her hands.
Even in wolf form, he could feel her magic rising. It was different from his—oceanic, vast, tasting of the eternal patience of the tide. She reached toward the Matrix, and her powerfollowed, fingers of blue-green light extending toward the spinning rings.
“The sigils,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone. “They’re layered wrong. The grammar’s all tangled. If I can pull at the threads?—”
The Matrix fought. A surge of raw energy slammed through Theo’s barrier, making him howl as it burned across his awareness. He held. Barely.
Avine’s magic touched the first sigil. The ring shuddered. Sparks flew.
“Got you,” she breathed. Her fingers moved in the air, pulling at threads of power only she could see. “There’s a pattern. Piprick’s work is layered over older magic—much older. I can feel where they don’t match.”
Another surge. Theo felt his barrier crack. He reinforced it desperately, pouring in more of himself, more of his pack’s strength. His vision blurred. His muscles screamed. Blood dripped from his muzzle—he could taste copper on his tongue.
The Matrix was hungry. It wanted everything—the ley lines, the ward anchors, him. It battered his defenses like a living thing, searching for weaknesses, probing for cracks.
Hold. Hold for her.
Avine was working faster, her hands dancing, her magic threading through the Matrix’s tangled structure. One sigil went dark. Then another. The spinning rings began to slow.
“Almost,” she gasped. “Almost there. A few more?—”
The Matrix made a sound like tearing metal. The remaining sigils flared brilliant white.
And then it fought with everything it had.
Power exploded outward. Theo’s barrier shattered. The force of it threw him sideways, slamming him into a shelf of components that collapsed in a cascade of metal and glass. Heshifted back to human involuntarily, the change ripping through him, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
“Avine!” He struggled to rise, vision swimming. She was still standing—barely—her own power forming a shield around her. But the Matrix was reforming, the sigils rekindling, feeding hungrily on the ley lines.
They weren’t going to make it. The Matrix was too strong. They needed more power.
“Avine.” He pushed to his feet, ignoring the blood running down his arm. “Let go. Stop holding back.”
Her eyes met his across the chaos. Fear there, and exhaustion, and?—
“I could lose control. I could?—”
