Page 49 of Direbound (The Wolves of Ruin #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

R egaining control feels impossible. The many minds connected to mine react with instinctive horror, and a torrent of thoughts carries me away like a white-water rapid river.

The northern defensive line shatters the moment Henrey’s wolf attacks him, the frontline giving way to Daemos pressure. Glimpses of the Phylax’s second line of defense surging forward reach me over pack unity, but I can’t make out the details perfectly any longer.

“ What’s happening? ” I ask Anassa in horror. Henrey’s wolf shouldn’t be hurting him, not at this very last point of training.

“ Sometimes, extreme pain can sever the rider-direwolf bond ,” she replies.

“ But why isn’t Henrey’s wolf healing himself? ”

She lets out a mournful growl. “ The bite severed an artery. It was a fatal hit. No wolf can heal something that severe; even our magic has its bounds .”

Too many of us are focused on the blood. Henrey is on the ground, his wolf’s massive jaws clamped around his right arm and chest. He’s being shaken like a rag doll.

Blood splatters across the disturbed earth in a gory arc. Too much of it. The perfect cohesion of a Bonded pair turning in on itself, tearing itself apart.

But I have to fight through it. I must, for my sake. For all of our sakes. Even for Henrey.

Refocusing on the raging stream of consciousness in my mind, I scrape the ruins back together, pulling the shattered halves of our pack back into cohesion. Anassa helps. Her growling, authoritative influence streaks across everyone’s minds.

It’s a tactical nightmare. My packmates scramble to salvage our strategy, calculating casualty projections, analyzing how this disastrous breach in our defense will affect the entire defensive structure.

Something slots into place in my mind. A need unlike any I’ve ever felt before, backed up by the emotions of countless packmates.

To close the wound. To reinforce our ranks. To protect my pack.

The Daemos forces surge toward the gap Henrey and his packmates were meant to defend. The other Phylax meet them as best they can, wolves butting heads and blades clashing. My pack are successfully processing Kryptos information still, which warns me that the reinforcement in the north is starting to leave the east more vulnerable.

But we have no choice. The moment Henrey went down, Daemos gained too much ground.

The urgency of strategic command burns in my veins, but beneath it all is an icy unease. It creeps over me, acute enough to chill the electric connection of the pack bond. All because of a simple truth.

Henrey is going to die today.

Around the arena, the direwolves are becoming agitated. Howls echo off the stone walls. Frontline clashes become rougher, drawing blood and tearing fur. And I can’t… look away from him.

He’s still alive, still struggling with his wolf, but going pale, losing too much blood. His face is set in a horrifying grimace, his free arm pushing at his wolf’s muzzle as if he might free himself. But his right arm is far beyond the point of recovery.

This was Henrey’s dream. His lifelong hope was to make it here, to this arena, to partake in these Trials and become Bonded. He made it to the very last task.

And now his dream is tearing him apart.

Some of the Phylax riders around Henrey are backing up. One desperately attempts to remain mounted while his wolf snaps and nearly entirely rolls to tear at the Daemos wolf in front of it. The heightened emotion and savagery are fueling the Daemos wolves as much as they’re compromising the rest of us, as if the combined scent of blood and their own fear is strengthening them.

There’s still undue strain on the Strategos pack bond, but we’re starting to find clarity again. Through it, I know that the eastern side is sparsely defended now. And I know that the north is about to buckle and give way.

If we don’t act immediately, the Trial will end in complete failure.

Through the chaos of fur and fear, Henrey’s eyes find mine, the look freezing me in place—pure agony, mixed with desperate pleading.

His lips form a single word, clear even across the field. Please .

My heart tears in two, even as Anassa’s strategic mind delivers heavy, impossible truths to me.

First: our defensive line cannot be salvaged while Henrey’s wolf rampages.

Second: his wolf cannot be stopped without killing it, which would also kill Henrey.

And third: a quick death now would be mercy, compared to being torn apart slowly.

Someone has to break formation to do this. Someone has to sacrifice their position in the strategic array to end this.

I make my decision quickly. I’m the Alpha; if anyone should make tough calls and risk themselves, it’s me. Anassa is fast, and she is merciless. And I’m…

I’m his friend.

“ Hold strategic formation ,” I project through the unity bond. “ I’m breaking ranks .”

My pack’s collective acknowledgment shivers through me. They’re already recalculating for my absence—who will compensate for the gap my eyes and mind leave behind? I leave it in their hands.

Anassa and I turn to streak across the field, ducking under blades and dodging teeth, and several Kryptos wolves move with me, keeping eyes on me to communicate my movements. My packmates flow into the gap I left behind and reshape themselves around my actions.

Anassa moves with deadly purpose, carrying us straight toward Henrey. One of the Kryptos wolves yelps as a Daemos maw surges through the Phylax barrier to snap at it. Anassa doesn’t stop.

“ Can we approach from the front? ” I ask Anassa.

“ It wouldn’t be safe. The wolf’s instincts are unpredictable .”

We approach from behind them instead and Anassa skids to a stop, teeth bared, suppressing her growl so that she doesn’t alert Henrey’s wolf to our presence.

Up close, the scene is even more horrific. Henrey’s wolf has him completely pinned, one massive paw on his chest, claws dug into his flesh and slowly pulling him apart. His wolf’s teeth are partially sunk into his throat, and occasional pulses of thick blood are spurting from open wounds.

There is conflict in the wolf’s eyes, in the trembling of its massive body, in the way its tail is tucked so far between its back legs. It’s just holding Henrey there, as if fighting against its own savage instincts.

The Phylax frontline surges closer to us. I can make out flashes of Daemos wolves as the line weakens. A few paws stampede closer as our defenses threaten to dissolve. I don’t have time.

I slip from Anassa’s back and creep closer, animal instinct raging in me as I willingly put myself within Henrey’s direwolf’s range. I draw my sword slowly, approaching as Anassa suggested.

Through our bond, Anassa tells me what I already know. “ This will mark you. ”

Her words echo strangely in my mind, branding deeper into my soul with each reverberation of sound.

It’s another impossible truth. Because it isn’t self-defense, or an enemy. I’ll be killing a friend. I can’t deny any of it. I can’t escape it. I must do this, even if it will irrevocably change me.

As I inch closer, careful not to alert the wolf towering in front me, Henrey’s eyes meet mine again. He’s pale as the winter sky, his eyes starting to glaze over.

Blood bubbles from his lips as he speaks. “Do it,” he chokes out.

I don’t hesitate. The instant I’m close enough, I surge forward beneath the wolf’s powerful front legs and slide on my knees. Trusting my body as I always have, I twist my torso and lash my arm out in a blow as fast and deadly as a snake’s strike. The wolf doesn’t have time to react.

My blade slides home, sinking between Henrey’s ribs.

His body goes slack instantly, the lingering light vanishing from his eyes. The wolf above me releases him with a soul-shaking, mournful howl. The sound is like the sundering of a soul, all the grief and pain in the world gathered up into one long, haunting note.

Then the wolf thunders to the ground, collapsing beside me, jaw slack and eyes staring forward lifelessly. Their broken bond dragged it to death alongside Henrey.

I can’t stay with him. I pull myself to my feet and flee to Anassa’s side, my sword dripping with Henrey’s blood. She turns her head, dipping it low to drape herself over my shoulder briefly. Her warmth pulls me back to myself, and my mind snaps back to the battle.

Jonah . Where is that fucker? I’m going to gut him for what he did.

Anassa senses my intention. “ No ,” she says. “ You are above retribution. You’re an Alpha and your pack needs you. Return to them. Lead them .”

I hate it, but she’s right. Jonah cannot be my focus right now.

I deftly climb Anassa’s side, sliding back into place. Around us, the Trial continues. Daemos forces still attack. Phylax are rebuilding their defensive line. Kryptos dart deftly through the violence to gather intelligence.

My packmates welcome me back into formation seamlessly, sensing my return and pivoting their wolves and their minds to reassert our initial strategy. A hint of relief finds me even through the pain and the noise. Despite what just happened, our unity is unbroken.

The remaining hours of the Trial pass in a blur of violent moves and countermoves. I throw myself into pack unity with a furious intensity, surrendering myself entirely. Through it all, our shared consciousness transforms the battlefield chaos into perfect order, each pack responding to Strategos’ guidance with lethal precision.

If I’m focused on the front lines, I don’t have time to look down and see the blood still clinging to my skin.

When the final horn sounds, our victory over Daemos is almost… anticlimactic.

My ears ring. I’m breathing hard, still hearing the clash of blades as Aldrich mounts the dais. His gaze sweeps over us. Anassa’s sides heave beneath me. She holds her head high even with her pale fur sullied by dirt and blood.

“The Unity Trials are complete,” Aldrich announces loudly through his amplifier.

Wolves shift all around us. My packmates’ minds still linger alongside mine, sparks of electric awareness lighting up my consciousness. Nevah is staring at Henrey’s body.

“Strategos has demonstrated exceptional strategic coordination, even in crisis. Phylax maintained their defensive integrity despite significant loss. Daemos provided a worthy challenge. And Kryptos proved their intelligence network remains unmatched,” Aldrich continues.

He doesn’t say anything about Henrey’s death. Then, he wouldn’t, would he? Wolves die. Riders die. We move on.

“No packs broke their mental unity throughout the entire Trial. Congratulations, Rawbonds. Those who survived will officially become Bonded at tomorrow’s graduation ceremony.”

Those who survived.

Even with those words hanging above us, the air lightens. Aldrich’s announcement sends a ripple of excitement through the Rawbonds all around me. Tomorrow, we join the ranks of all their family members. We made it through. We survived and now we’re going to become official members of our packs.

I can’t feel the same excitement right now, though, not with the blood on my hands.

Servants weave between the wolves, gathering Henrey’s ruined body on a stretcher to carry him away.

I lean forward on Anassa’s back, jolted from the heavy emotion dragging me down by an odd sight. The servants aren’t taking Henrey’s body toward the castle gates, towards the room where fallen Rawbonds’ bodies are prepared to be returned to their families. Instead, they’re heading towards a strange door on the far side of the arena.

I stare as the other Rawbonds around me start to dismount and give into their exhaustion. “ Anassa ,” I probe, wanting to know if she finds this odd, too.

She doesn’t respond, but she’s staring in the same direction. I slip from her back, stroking my hand over her fur briefly before stepping forward to try to see better. The servants swing a heavy, iron-studded door open. Beyond it, there’s a dimly flickering torch. I briefly catch a glimpse of stairs that lead down. Beneath the arena?

Like where that crown might be buried.

But why?