Page 48 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

They’re massive, easily twice the size of any wolf I’ve seen before.

Their fur is patchy and uneven, matted with what looks like dried blood.

Their limbs are unnaturally long, their muscles bulging in ways that seem wrong, twisted.

And their eyes are too bright, too intelligent, like there’s something else behind them, something unnatural.

“Fuck,” Malachi mutters, stepping in front of me, his knife drawn. “They look like they’ve been experimented on.”

The closest wolf snarls, its lips peeling back to reveal jagged, oversized teeth. Saliva drips from its maw, steaming as it hits the snow.

I take a step back, my blade trembling in my grip, suddenly feeling too small. “What do we do?”

Malachi’s eyes flick between the wolves, assessing. “We don’t run. That’ll trigger their instincts. Stay behind me and?—”

Before he can finish, one of the wolves charges. Malachi moves faster than I can process, stepping into its path and slashing his knife across its shoulder. The creature howls in pain but doesn’t stop, lunging for him again.

Another wolf leaps from the side, and I barely manage to dodge, slashing wildly with my knife. The blade connects, cutting deep into its side, but it doesn’t slow the creature much.

Malachi kicks the first wolf back and pulls me closer to him. “Stay with me. Don’t let them separate us.”

The wolves close in, their movements unnervingly coordinated. They’re not attacking randomly—they’re hunting.

“Fuck this,” Malachi growls, pressing one of the tiny buttons on the front of the mask again and turning the knob.

Another wolf leaps, and he meets it in midair, driving his knife into its throat. Blood sprays across the snow as the wolf collapses with a yelp, but the others don’t hesitate.

One lunges at me, and I slash at its face, barely managing to keep it at bay.

The sheer force of its weight knocks me back into the snow, and I lose my footing.

The beast is on top of me in an instant, its heavy, wet maw dripping dangerously close to my face.

My blood runs cold as its rancid breath washes over me.

Without thinking, I shove my blade upward, driving it directly into the beast. It lets out a low growl, jumping off me and circling back to the trees, drops of blood staining the snow as it moves.

I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding as I look for Malachi.

He’s a whirlwind of motion, trying to fend off wolf after wolf, but there are too many.

“Malachi!” I shout as one of the wolves charges at him from behind.

He spins in time, his knife flashing as it finds its mark. The wolf collapses, but he’s breathing heavily now, his movements slowing.

The remaining wolves pause, perhaps wary now that they’ve met stiff resistance, their glowing eyes fixed on us as they regroup. My chest heaves, my hand shaking as I grip my knife tighter.

“We can’t stay here,” Malachi says, his voice steady despite the utter chaos. “We need to get to the cabin.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Let’s go.”

Together, we start to back away, the wolves following at a distance, their eyes never leaving us.

The wolves’ snarls grow louder with every step we take, their frothing maws snapping.

One lunges at Malachi, and he fends it off with a brutal swing of his knife, but I barely have time to feel relief before another grabs me from behind.

Its claws rake across my back as I’m knocked to the ground, and I scream as its teeth sink into my leg. The pain is sharp and unrelenting.

“Kat!” Malachi’s voice roars, his eyes blazing with terror as he spins to face me.

He doesn’t hesitate. The blade in his hand arcs through the air, embedding itself deep into the wolf’s shoulder.

The beast releases me with a pained whimper and stumbles off, but the others aren’t retreating.

They’re circling, their growls vibrating in the air like a sinister symphony.

My leg burns, the pain unbearable, but I force myself not to cry. I bite my lip so hard it tastes like copper. The last thing I want is to show weakness—not now, not here. And God, I hope that thing didn’t have rabies.

Malachi reaches my side and shrugs off his backpack. “Put this on,” he orders, shoving it into my arms. His voice is steady, but his eyes betray the panic he’s barely keeping at bay.

I nod, clutching the bag as he helps me to my feet. I wobble but manage to slip the straps over my shoulders. Before I can protest, he kneels.

“Get on,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

I climb onto his back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist as tightly as I can manage. He steadies me with one hand and grips his knife with the other, moving backward toward the cabin with deliberate steps.

I feel the wet warmth of blood seeping down my leg, the thick liquid sticking to my skin as we step back.

One of the creatures approaches, its massive black form blending with the night.

It lowers its snout to the snow, directly where my blood has stained the white ground.

The animal sniffs deeply, its nose twitching, and then it tilts its head at me—its eyes glinting with a strange, unnerving intelligence.

A chill crawls up my spine as it stares me down, and then with an eerie, bone-chilling howl, it shatters the silence of the night. The sound is raw, primal—something that rattles my very bones.

I squeeze Malachi tighter, every instinct inside me screaming to run, to escape the sharp, hungry gaze of the creature. But I can’t tear my eyes away.

God, I don’t want to die like this. My mind races with intrusive thoughts of what it would feel like to be torn apart, the sheer horror of being devoured alive. And next to Malachi, of all people—the man I have feelings for, feelings I’m not ready to name but can’t deny.

Another howl pierces the night, distant but sharp, and it cuts through my spiraling thoughts like a blade.

Malachi freezes mid-step, his grip on me tightening.

The wolves stop, their heads snapping toward the sound.

They exchange looks, their postures shifting as if communicating something we can’t understand.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they’re gone. The pack bolts into the darkness, vanishing between the trees like shadows.

I barely have time to process what happened before Malachi is running. His strides are long and powerful, his breath ragged as he barrels toward the cabin. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, and force myself to keep my eyes open, scanning the forest for any sign of movement.

The cabin looms ahead, dark and silent. It’s so close. Please, let it be unlocked.

Malachi reaches the door and slams into it with his shoulder. By some miracle, it swings open. He rushes inside, setting me on a table before barricading the door with whatever he can find. Chairs, a heavy dresser, anything that will hold.

He moves to the windows next, shoving furniture against them until only slivers of moonlight sneak through.

Finally, he finds a candle on the stove, lighting it and bringing it over to me.

Its flickering glow casts long shadows on the wooden walls, but it’s enough to push back the suffocating darkness.

My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I clutch the edges of the table, trying to ground myself. The air inside the cabin feels heavy but safe. For the first time since the wolves appeared, I feel like I can breathe.

Malachi steps closer, his eyes scanning me, lingering on my leg. “You’re bleeding,” he says.

I glance down at my torn pants, the blood staining my skin, and manage a weak smile. “It’s a scratch.”

He pulls his mask off and cringes at my leg. “That’s not a scratch, Kat.”

He’s angry—not at me but at whatever twisted hand dealt us this night.