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"Don't tempt me," Torren growled, circling closer.

In his peripheral vision, Kieran saw two wolves edging toward Maya. Time slowed as calculations raced through his mind—if he shifted, he'd have the strength to match them, but Maya would be momentarily unprotected during the transformation. If he stayed human, his combat skills might hold them for a few more minutes, but eventually the numbers would overwhelm him.

"Maya," he said without taking his eyes off Torren, "when I tell you to run, head southwest. Don't stop."

"I'm not leaving you," she hissed, the stubborn defiance that both infuriated and captivated him shining through.

"This isn't a debate," he growled back, blocking another attack and countering with a punch that sent one attacker crashing into a tree.

Four wolves remained standing, circling closer. Torren's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Your father wanted us to bring you back alive," he said, "but accidents happen in combat."

The challenge in Torren's voice ignited something primal in Kieran. He felt the shift coming—unstoppable now—as heat flooded his veins. His bones ached with the impending transformation, his muscles already rippling beneath his skin.

"RUN, MAYA!" he roared, his voice deepening as his vocal cords began to transform.

Through the haze of his transformation, Kieran saw a flash of red hair as Maya bolted between two trees. Good girl. Smart girl. His mate was running in exactly the direction he'd told her—toward the limestone caves where she might find shelter.

The shift overtook him in a violent rush. Bones snapped and reformed, his spine elongated, and thick black fur burst from every pore. The pain was searing but familiar—a baptism of fire he'd endured since puberty. His heightened senses flared to life—scents exploded around him, sounds sharpened, and his vision adjusted to detect the slightest movement.

The other wolves had begun their shifts too—but Kieran had the advantage of starting first. His massive black wolf form stood taller than average, muscles bunched beneath his midnight coat. Silver-blue eyes—unchanged from his human form—locked onto his opponents.

Torren's wolf—a mottled gray with battle scars crisscrossing his muzzle—snarled a challenge. The others closed in, forming a deadly semicircle of teeth and claws.

A movement at the edge of his vision caught Kieran's attention. His head whipped around just in time to see Maya stumble mid-stride, her body jerking unnaturally before she collapsed to the forest floor. A tranquilizer dart protruded from her shoulder, its bright orange fletching obscenely vibrant against her olive jacket.

A figure emerged from the dense foliage—a sixth Granite Ridge operative. The bastards had a contingency plan. The shooter slung his rifle and sprinted toward Maya's crumpled form.

The sight tore through Kieran like lightning. A ferocious roar erupted from his chest—not the howl of a wolf but the primal scream of a mate seeing his other half threatened. His visiontunneled, the world narrowing to Maya's vulnerable form and the enemies between them.

MINE.

Torren lunged first, teeth aiming for Kieran's throat. But Kieran was beyond tactical thinking now. Pure instinct and fury drove him as he twisted, catching Torren's subordinate instead. Kieran's massive jaws closed around the smaller wolf's neck, crushing his windpipe with a single savage bite.

One down.

He pivoted, using momentum to slam into a second attacker. Claws raked across Kieran's shoulder, drawing blood, but he barely felt it. His own teeth found purchase on a foreleg, and he wrenched with such force that bone splintered. The wolf's agonized yelp cut short as Kieran's jaws closed over his skull.

Two down.

The remaining wolves attacked simultaneously. Kieran met their charge head-on, no longer fighting to win but to annihilate. Every second they lived was another second someone was taking Maya from him. He caught one wolf in mid-leap, using his superior weight to drive his opponent into the ground with crushing force. His teeth tore through fur and flesh, ripping out the wolf's throat in a spray of crimson.

Three down.

The fourth wolf hesitated, seeing the carnage. Kieran gave him no chance to reconsider. He lunged, a black missile of muscle and fury. The wolf tried to dart away, but Kieran's teeth closed around his spine. A vicious shake, a sickening crack, and the wolf went limp.

Four down.

Only Torren remained. The gray wolf circled warily, recognizing the deadly berserker rage in Kieran's eyes. Torren was larger than his packmates, battle-hardened and cunning. Hefeinted left before attacking from the right, teeth sinking deep into Kieran's flank.

Pain lanced through Kieran's body as muscle tore. He twisted violently, dislodging Torren but leaving a gaping wound. They circled, blood dripping onto fallen leaves. Torren struck again, this time catching Kieran's hind leg, teeth grinding against bone.

Kieran stumbled but didn't fall. The image of Maya collapsing burned in his mind, fueling him beyond physical limitations. He didn't just need to win—he needed to end this now.

When Torren lunged again, Kieran was ready. Instead of dodging, he met the attack directly, absorbing the impact. Torren's momentum carried them both to the ground in a tangle of fur and fangs. They rolled, each seeking the killing bite, claws tearing flesh.

Kieran took more wounds—a slash across his chest, a bite on his ear—but he pressed forward relentlessly. When he finally found his opening, he struck with terrifying precision. His jaws closed around Torren's throat, his teeth sinking through fur, skin, and muscle until they met in the middle.

The light in Torren's eyes dimmed, then extinguished completely.