Page 51

The partial shift came first. His eyes turned gold, his speed doubled, and the wolf’s senses flooded his own. He’d spent three decades learning exactly how far to let it in — enough to sharpen his judgment, never enough to override it.

Tonight the threshold moved.

The formation sent two creatures directly at Yoren and Selke in the far lane—these pack members had the least combat experience on this rotation—and Drayce moved as a third creature diverted from its approach and rushed toward the right flank, where Althea was positioned.

The partial gave way.

This was not the full instinct-dominant version or a total control shift. However, it was bigger than the usual margin. His wolf pushed to the leash’s edge, which Drayce allowed given the circumstances—Yoren and Selke needed protection, the creature on the right flank had to be redirected before it reached Althea’s position, and neither he nor his wolf would let that happen.

He struck the creature on the side at full speed. Two hundred and forty pounds of alpha wolf rushing forward left no doubt about the result. He pushed it into the warehouse wall, heard the satisfying crash of mass hitting industrial timber, and then let it go to turn on the second creature in the lane.

The fight was quick and fierce. It had a noisy waterfront atmosphere — dock creaks shifting to groans, creatures thrashing against the metal warehouse siding, and the sharp, rapid sounds of pack members and Rift entities trading blows across three lanes simultaneously.

His wolf was thoroughly enjoying itself, commenting on the formation, the approach to the dock, and the creature it had driven into the warehouse wall. Drayce recorded all of these comments for future reference, since that’s where he kept his wolf’s tactical insights during active engagements.

Then he heard the fire.

This was not an explosion or a sudden surge, but a deliberate release—like a measured whoomph of contained fire, moving outward with purpose rather than exploding from pressure. He pivoted without losing contact with the creature ahead, noticing Althea positioned between Yoren and Selke near the warehouse wall. Her arms stretched out, flames burning steadily in two streams from her palms that struck the creature, pinning it against the wall and forcing it to retreat, without a burst or uncontrolled outburst.

She held it. Under full adrenaline, with real creatures, real stakes, and pack members at genuine risk, she held the fire exactly where she’d put it and pulled it back exactly when she needed to.

His wolf lost half a step mid-fight, caught her eye before it caught back up.

Drayce used that second to deal with the creature in front of him.

The formation broke at the six-minute mark.

Not because the creatures were beaten. Two of the three could still fight. They withdrew anyway — coordinated, back through the dock pilings, disappearing into the water access they’d come from. The retreat said as much as the attack had.

Ambient Rift creatures didn’t retreat in formation. They fought until they couldn’t.

These had an exit strategy. Someone had given it to them.

Drayce stood at the edge of the dock, watching the water where they’d gone, as the wolf resolved back to the field standard and his heart rate returned to operational. The gold faded from his eyes by degrees.

Pike materialized at his shoulder, calm and efficient, handing over some clothes. “Yoren’s got a claw rake on his forearm. Nothing structural. Selke is fine. Maelin’s got a cracked rib, which he’s refusing to acknowledge.” He glanced toward the warehouse. “Our founding-line asset apparently had opinions about the Yoren-Selke situation.”

“She intervened.”

“Effectively.”

“Yes.”

Pike wrote in the notebook. Drayce didn’t bother reading it upside down. Whatever it said, he’d earned it.

The debrief took place on dock crates at the warehouse’s southern end, the nearest flat surface with a direct view of the water access point. Drayce sat with the incident log on his phone, adrenaline still cooling in his blood and an acute awareness of Althea three feet to his left, which he was handling by focusing hard on anything else.

She was watching the water, running the quiet internal check she always ran after she’d done something that didn’t yet feel real.

He looked at her directly. “You held it.”

She blinked. She turned to look at him. “I held it,” she agreed, as if she were reading the sentence back to make sure it was true.

“Under live threat. First time.”

“They were going to—” She stopped, then started again. “Yoren and Selke. The creature had them at the wall. I wasn’t thinking about control. I was thinking about the wall.”

“That’s how it works.”