Page 53 of Direbound (The Wolves of Ruin #1)

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

T he instant it begins, I visualize my pack’s connection exploding from my body. A flood of a powerful river. A crackle of branching lightning, my energy at its epicenter. I expand my consciousness in a violent burst through our pack unity, touching each of my packmates’ minds simultaneously.

The initial impact of their joint experiences briefly overwhelms me, but Anassa protects me. I feel every heartbeat, every surge of adrenaline, every flash of fear and anger—all of it in the space of a handful of seconds. And then I master it.

What concerns me most is the powerful urge thrumming through each and every one of them.

Kill .

Whatever the king unleashed with that sword, it’s as deadly as an arrow at their throats. They’re compelled to attack each other, to betray our bond and tear each other apart.

But I am their Alpha. And I won’t let the bastard on that throne take anything or anyone else from me.

With the king’s order, the arena immediately turned into a gruesome battle. All the direwolves are attacking each other. I can see Tomison and Kristof’s wolves snapping at each other as if their riders were enemies instead of close friends.

“ FUCK the king! ” I bellow through the pack unity.

Their minds snap collectively, tracking my fury through the chaos. Anassa snarls and sprints around the edge of the arena, outpacing the wolves trying to pursue us. Jonah is chasing me; I suppose the king’s orders sounded like approval to do whatever the fuck he wants.

I circle wide, sword in hand, consciousness reaching for my pack’s pain and power. I can sense that the king’s hold on them snapped the moment I gave them my rage.

“ Follow ,” I tell them. “ Together .” And I sense their understanding. This is how it should be. All of us as one, unified. Bonded.

My plan to get to the king might have been upended… but I’m going to use my packmates’ protection to get to him all the same.

That fucker dies today.

The melee explodes. A massive Daemos wolf lunges straight for Nevah’s throat. Multiple minds analyze the trajectory.

I send rapid commands over unity. “ Izabel, cut left. Tomison, drive them toward the west wall .”

My packmates’ wolves move without hesitation, their massive bodies whipping forth to follow my orders. Anassa and I descend into the fray strategically, my mind glowing from the rush of information.

Izabel’s wolf leaps high over the heads of two Kryptos wolves, landing closer to Nevah, who still struggles desperately against the massive black Daemos wolf. Then Tomison’s direwolf charges from the opposite direction, carving a pass with his massive bulk. The Daemos wolf pulls back, suddenly trapped between the Strategos pairs.

Shit, it looks too coordinated. The king might notice a pattern in my pack’s movements. We can’t appear unified, or he’ll notice—and then who knows what will happen?

“ Make it look coincidental next time, ” I instruct everyone. “ Don’t let him see that we’re working together. ”

I rely heavily on Anassa as the battle rages on. She fights well as I organize the defense of my pack. She helps guide my hand, using her massive size to carve a path through the field so that smaller Strategos wolves can use it to reposition without opposition.

Driven by the king’s command, two Kryptos wolves use their startling speed and maneuverability to cut through the melee, ducking under massive Phylax wolves and darting around Daemos fangs.

I don’t see them myself. I feel their approach in a cascading shiver of minds and know that they aren’t angling for me but Tomison and Pietr, who are flanking me, their wolves pretending to snap at Anassa’s heels.

We were heading to the northern side to help Izabel. It doesn’t matter. I have to shake the Kryptos pair now. Izabel can hold out if Tomison goes her way. I issue a flurry of orders.

“ Tomison— ”

His awareness burns fiery through my mind. He’s already sprinting towards her. I grin wickedly and turn my attention elsewhere.

“ Pietr, drop back. Allegra, guard his retreat. Roddert, circle wide and take them—they’ll expect you to go tight .”

My pack fights well, viciously but tightly controlled. We defend our own with a fury, but we spare the other packs as best we can. The king might be okay with more bloodshed today, but we refuse.

I reach Izabel and Tomison just in time. Anassa rears up to block a smaller wolf’s lunge, giving Tomison’s wolf enough time to drag a blood-crazed Daemos attacker off of his rider.

Danger prickles over the back of my neck, sent by Izabel. My blade moves before my mind does. I swing, the metal clanging against a blow that was meant for Izabel. Even still, my mind races through three other orders—two pairs across the arena on the southern side, another north east.

I’m making progress. My pack has mostly been repositioned towards the arena’s stands, inching closer with every maneuver. I weave protective patterns as the fight rages on, fending off attacks, protecting the other packs’ lives…

Drawing closer to my goal.

A Phylax wolf manages to sink teeth into Allegra. Pain echoes through the bond, bitter with fear. The taste of blood fills my mouth. I bit the inside of my cheek, an instinctive reaction to one of mine being harmed.

I swallow and use the pain, pushing my focus even farther.

“ Hold formation. Darius, take point. Roddert, flank left. They’re too focused on Allegra. Use that .”

Orders executed, Allegra and her direwolf retreat behind the cover we’ve created, limping badly but alive. Roddert’s wolf is covered in blood, but it’s not hers. I discount it and let my mind jump forward.

We’ve formed a protective arc around the king’s platform—almost as though we’re defending him. To an onlooker, it may look as though we’ve been backed against a wall. We even snap at each other, as though the king’s command still grips us. It’s impossible to fully hide that we aren’t turning on each other as the other packs are, but it hardly matters at this point.

We look vulnerable, as though we’re fleeing from the fight. Not at all a threat, which is what I need him to believe.

The pack needs to be able to protect each other once I act. If I have to leave them, I need to know that they’ll be in a strong enough position to fight off three other packs. To fight off assholes like Jonah, who gave up on getting to me and is currently trying to thin out the Kryptos ranks.

Once I’ve positioned each pair exactly where they need to be, I unleash my emotions. A pulse of anger and protectiveness and faith floods from me. A few of them briefly turn to look at me before refocusing on the battle, on the act.

“ Whatever happens next, ” I project to all of them, “ hold this formation. Keep our pack alive. ”

Their minds erupt. Instantly, their emotion floods back to me. It’s blinding. Overwhelming. They trust my leadership, even without understanding my plan. I’ve kept them safe, and now they’ll fight until their last to defend the unity between us.

My eyes sting with tears that I don’t have time to shed.

Anassa’s muscles bunch beneath me as she lowers herself. She asks only once. “ Are you certain? ”

I respond with rage. It washes through Anassa, through my pack. She lets out a terrifying howl, the furious, threatening sound of it carrying my fury clear across the arena. An instant later, other Strategos wolves join in, our voices singing wrath in total unity.

I sink my hand into Anassa’s fur. “ For Saela. For all of them. ”

Anassa turns, her massive claws scraping as she gains momentum. I lean down, securing my grip on her fur and bracing my body. She snarls, and we’re in the air. The jump is impossible. It would be for anyone but her.

Powerful muscles propel us upward. We slice through the air, a streak of silver death like the cut of a blade. Anassa lands with a menacing thud on the king’s platform, looming over his throne.

Guards scramble towards us down the steps, but they’re too slow.

I’ve already slid from Anassa’s back, blade ready.

King Cyril Valtiere rises to his feet, but there’s no fear in his expression. I see only mild surprise. Then, worse, amusement , like he still thinks this is all a game when I’m already anticipating the way his blood is going to spill.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I have no patience for his insidious lies. I lift my leg and kick, aiming my blow precisely. My boot impacts his wrist with bone-cracking strength, and he shouts, dropping the glittering wolf-pommel sword from his grip.

The sword clatters to the stone at his feet. I know I only have seconds, but an instinct takes my body over.

I lunge for the sword, something thrumming in my blood ordering me to take it up in place of my own. I need it in my hand. I need to watch his blood spill over the bite of its sharp edge, leaking scarlet over silver.

The instant I take it up, power .

Ancient, overwhelming magic sears my veins. It swallows up my entire body, vibrating through my legs and arms, nearly making me lose my grip. My heart screams in my chest. It’s like I’m breathing in lightning, like the barest nudge could lead it to rip through my pores and sear the entire arena.

The sword is alive in my grip, humming with energy that reaches for me. The metal warms in my palm as though it’s fusing to my skin, responding to me, clamoring for my attention.

Above me, Anassa whips forward, biting a guard’s head clean from his shoulders. When I look up at the king slowly, his amusement falters. His left foot shifts backward, only slightly.

His hand raises—perhaps to signal guards, perhaps to attempt to defend himself—but I’m already moving. I hadn’t realized the arena had gone silent until my voice carries in powerful echoes across the space.

“This is for Saela,” I snarl.

The blade is an extension of my arm, a deadly part of me. My own silver claws. It whizzes through the air, faster than I’ve ever seen a weapon move. The world goes still as its edge connects with his neck. I see it. That first split of his skin. It burns into my eyes painfully.

Blood splashes across my arm. An arterial spurt catches me in the face.

His life splatters over my chest, sinking into my clothes, and across the stone. Across the throne. Across the blade.

The king’s light blue eyes go still as his head gives way to its own weight. It slips from his neck and tumbles down the platform steps as his limp body collapses to the ground at my feet.

There’s a sick urge to destroy what’s left. To savage his corpse until no one would ever be able to recognize him. But I swallow it down and lower the blade, blood dripping from its tip.

The guards have frozen. The arena is silent. My pack pulses with unease.

I turn to Killian, and his face is ashen.

There is no relief. No triumph at his father’s downfall. He looks at me in abject horror, his eyes moving over the blood spilled across my chest, to the sword, to his father’s corpse.

“Meryn, what have you done?” he shudders out, stepping away from me with wide eyes, hands shaking. Then, anger. His expression contorts into fury. “Guards! Seize her! She’s killed the king!”

“What?!” I shriek.

A flood of guards storms the platform. Those already here spring back into action. The arena trembles with sound as the crowd reacts to the scene. I try to retreat to Anassa’s side. She tries to leap for me, eyes wild. But before she can get close enough to defend me, a hiss of a weapon tears through the air and impacts her side.

“Anassa!” I scream as I watch her fall. I whip back around, and for a single instant, I see something. I swear I see it. He covers it up quickly, but…

Killian’s lips turn upward. It’s a tiny satisfied twitch, his eyes glinting blue, his gaze calculating.

Then the pain. Something slams into the back of my skull, snuffing out my light.