The others run up. Rowan first, still in wolf form, pressing his muzzle against Killian’s neck. Micah close behind, human now as he staggers toward us. And Sean, limping badly. Half his face is covered in blood and his eye is completely swollen shut, but he’s still standing.
“How bad?” Micah’s voice is rough.
“Bad.” I don’t look up. “I need… I need more power, but… What about that thing?”
A look passes across Rowan’s lupine face, like he doesn’t quite know how to answer.I don’t know. I didn’t even get a good look through the trees. It just obliterated the rest of the coven, and then it?—
A sound cuts me off. Low and wrong.
We all turn.
The werewolf is moving.
Its neck is clearly broken, lolling at an angle that should mean instant death for any living thing. But it’s pulling itself upright anyway, those yellow eyes fixed on us with that mindless hunger that makes my stomach churn. The silver collar around its throat is glowing, pulsing with the same sickly magic Kara was using throughmyfucking sigils.
Which means if Killian dies, my magic is what…
No.
No,I can’t even let myself think it.
Kyle is still controlling it somehow, even from wherever he fled to like a godsdamned coward.
Get behind us.Rowan’s voice echoes in my head as he places himself between me and the approaching nightmare. Micah joins him, and even Sean staggers forward, refusing to stay down.
My wolves. Ready to die for me.
The werewolf takes another step. Its movements are jerky, puppet-like, driven by magic rather than muscle. It shouldn’t be able to stand, let alone fight. But Kyle’s collar keeps it moving, and I know with the kind of certainty I’ve only ever felt a few times in my life, we can’t win this.
Not like this. Not with Killian down and Sean barely standing and all of us exhausted. But they’re going to fight anyway, until their last breath.
So am I.
Then the shadow returns.
It blocks out the sun, vast and dark, and I hear the sound of its massive wings beating the air into submission. The ground trembles. Trees at the edge of the meadow bend like they’re bowing.
I look up.
Green eyes. Impossibly green, burning with ancient fire. Scales that shimmer between black and emerald. A head the size of a car, and huge wings that seem to stretch out endlessly, tipped in ivory points that could pierce clean through a human’s chest. Or a wolf’s.
A dragon.
A fuckingdragon.
Its jaws spread wide, burning smoke gathering in its throat. Crackling emerald flames lick through rows of daggerlike teeth.
It roars.
The sound shakes my bones, rattles my teeth, makes every instinct I have scream to run. But I don’t. Killian is beneath my hands, still bleeding, still dying, and I won’t leave him.
Even the werewolf freezes, as if whatever is left of its survival instincts from the time when it was human are activated by that terrifying, ancient sound.
The dragon’s roar builds, and green flames pour from its mouth.
The same green light I saw during the ritual.
Chapter
