Page 20 of Night with a Gamma (Golden Strings of Fate #2)
FAMILY TURMOIL
Harrison
The night is charged with an energy that crackles in the air, a palpable tension that gnaws at my instincts.
I stand beside Wren, my mate, my heart racing in tandem with the thrumming of the protective barrier surrounding our territory.
The moon hangs high, casting an ethereal glow upon the forest, but tonight it feels ominous.
It is not just the shadows of the trees or the rustle of leaves that unsettle me; it is the dark forces gathering on the outskirts of our land, seeking to breach our sanctuary.
Wren stands tall, her fiery aura flickering like a flame in the wind, a vivid contrast against the encroaching darkness.
Her confidence radiates, yet I can sense the flicker of uncertainty within her — a reflection of my own turmoil.
I want to shift, to let my wolf take over, to become the beast that can protect her fiercely.
But I hesitate, not wanting to tear my gaze away from her.
It’s a moment of silent communication between us; she nods ever so slightly, and that is all the encouragement I need.
A deep growl rumbles from within, and in an instant, my body transforms. Bones shift, muscles stretch, and I am no longer Harrison the man but Harrison the wolf — a deadly creature of white fur, standing tall and proud beside my mate.
The shift is seamless, the world sharpening into focus as my senses heighten.
I feel Wren’s energy coursing through me, and it ignites a primal instinct to protect, to fight for our bond.
I nuzzle into her shoulder, a gesture of reassurance that I am here, that I will always be here.
She is my Little Bird, and nothing will harm her while I draw breath.
My wolf and I share a singular thought: we must capture one of the enemies and eliminate the rest. The thought is raw, unfiltered, and filled with the promise of a future filled with peace for us and our pack.
As I scan the surroundings, my focus sharpens on the edges of the forest. There, between the trees, I catch a glimmer — a witch, casting spells with purpose, intent etched across her features.
I recognize her immediately — Lenore, Wren’s sister, the very embodiment of darkness.
The air around her crackles with malevolent energy as she weaves her magic, cutting holes in the protective barrier that Wren’s coven has fought so hard to maintain.
“Lenore,” Wren whispers, the name a soft, pained breath that cuts into me like a knife.
The weight of her sister’s betrayal hangs heavy in the air.
I can see it in Wren’s eyes, the conflict that rages within her.
Lenore has chosen this path of destruction, and it is clear she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals.
The protective barrier falters under Lenore's relentless assault, and I can feel the tension snap as the first wave of rogues breaches the shield.
My heart races, primal instincts kicking in as I prepare to defend my mate, my pack.
Agatha, the High Priestess, steps up with a fierce resolve, casting a powerful wind that slams into a group of rogues charging toward Octavia, Wyatt, Poppy and Dalton.
The wind howls, a force of nature that sends several of them sprawling.
But my focus is on Wren. I can see her locking gazes with Lenore, the battle of wills palpable.
I sense her hesitation, the flicker of love battling against the need to protect us all.
She raises her hands, gathering energy, and for a heartbeat, I worry she might falter.
But then, with a fierce flick of her wrist, she unleashes a dark blue flaming ball of energy, hurling it toward her sister.
The spell strikes Lenore, illuminating the night with a burst of fire, but the moment is fleeting as Lenore deflects it with a water shield.
I feel the surge of anger rise within me as I watch Wren struggle, and just then, I spot a rogue wolf creeping toward us, muscles tensed for an ambush.
My instincts kick in, and I spring into action, catching the rogue off guard before sinking my teeth into its flesh, a fierce growl escaping my throat.
But the sounds of battle are a cacophony, and my heart sinks as I hear Wren’s scream pierce through the fray.
I turn, horror flooding through me, to find Lenore using her magic to extinguish Wren's fire, nearly drowning her in the process.
Time stretches as I fight off the other two wolves, muscles screaming in protest as I tear into them with primal fury.
My gaze flicks back to Wren, her eyes wide with fear, and my heart shatters for her.
Poppy, fierce and unwavering, steps into the fray.
“Lenore!” she yells, her voice laced with anger and heartbreak.
Roots burst forth from the ground, snaking their way around Lenore’s legs, binding her in place as if nature itself wished to see her brought to justice.
Lenore screams, a sound that reverberates through the air, chilling me to the bone.
Wren collapses, sputtering water and shaking, and my heart races as I break free from the last of the rogues, shifting back into my human form.
I rush to her side, wrapping her in a tight embrace, my hands cradling her face, brushing her hair back from her eyes.
I feel her trembling, the fear coursing through her like ice, and I whisper soothing words, trying to calm the storm within her.
“My mate, Little Bird, I’ve got you,” I murmur, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, a spark of hope igniting within me as she leans into my touch.
But the moment is shattered as Agatha’s voice cuts through the chaos, addressing her daughter with a fierce authority. “Lenore, silence your screams. They are unnecessary. Calm yourself before I make you.”
Lenore falls limp, her screams fading, a trance settling over her as the roots hold her captive.
Agatha turns to Poppy, a proud glint in her eyes.
“You are amazing, Poppy. If you ever seek a coven, you are welcome among us.” The words hang in the air, a lifeline thrown to a girl who has long felt like an outsider.
Poppy stands stunned, and I can see the impact of Agatha's words on Wren too. This is a moment of hope, of belonging, for Poppy, who has always felt the weight of being half-bear shifter and half-witch. Wren’s eyes glisten with emotion, and I hold her tighter, grounding her as the aftermath of battle settles like ash around us.
The warriors of the Waterton Pack bring me a pair of basketball shorts, a welcome distraction from the chaos. I slip them on, my focus still on Wren. The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, and I can feel her breathing begin to steady.
Eventually, they take Lenore away, bound by magic and the weight of her choices.
She will be interrogated, and the truth behind her dark ambitions will unfold.
The pack knows that Lenore is not working alone; there are deeper currents at play.
The rogue attacks have been orchestrated for over ten years, a shadow that looms over our lives.
As the dust settles and the sounds of battle dissipate, I pull Wren closer, my gaze scanning the perimeter for any lingering threats. “We’ll get through this, Little Bird,” I promise, my voice steady. “Together.”
Wren nods, her eyes meeting mine, and in that moment, I know we are bound not just by fate but by choice, by love. Whatever darkness lies ahead, we will face it together, stronger than the sum of our parts.
But as we stand there, enveloped in the aftermath of the battle, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. The darkness that Lenore has unleashed is more than just an attack; it is a challenge, a call to arms, and our fight is far from over.