Page 51 of Rising Reign (The Wolves of Crescent Creek #3)

PUCK

I watched in horror as the reddish wolf with dead eyes took Wren to the ground, snapping and snarling. But worse, a black substance dripped from its teeth as it tried to get its jaws around her neck.

Kingston ripped into its hindquarter, making it howl as more wolves ran from the opposite side of the property. And I recognized some of them. “Red River,” I snarled through the pack link.

My shift came on instantly as I charged toward Wren, Brix, and King, but I heard Juan behind me. “Holy fuck,” he cursed. “They’re huge. And there are so many.”

He was right. There were more than there should be.

“Mercenaries,” Ender growled through our minds. “I’ve seen some of them before. Hired guns with no loyalty.”

But I knew a healthy dose of Red River assholes was in the mix, too.

Wren just managed to escape the red wolf’s clutches, grabbing for her sword that was now lying on the ground. She swiped at the wolf who looked like he was half demon, and everything in me seized.

Marcelle. It had to be. A shifter brought back from the dead by dark magic. Everything about him was pure evil. He might’ve had a shred of light in him before, but no longer. He was nothing but darkness now.

Rhys and Locke ran into the fray, guns at the ready, as Clara and her team rounded the other side in wolf form. I caught sight of Hera chanting some incantation I prayed would save our asses as Ender and Franco tried to take wolves out from their sniper’s nest.

Marcelle snarled at Wren, that black, tar-like substance still dripping from his teeth. “Going to make you pay.”

Everyone fighting on Arcane’s side stilled. Because we could hear him. It shouldn’t have been possible. The only beings that could hear one another were those joined by pack links or a completed mating bond. But whatever sick and twisted thing had been done to Marcelle had given him more gifts.

Brix leapt into the air, blade raised, coming down on Marcelle’s back and aiming for his heart. But Marcelle turned at the last possible moment, batting Brix away as if he weighed nothing more than a twig. He hit a tree hard and slumped to the ground.

Wren cried out, trying to run for him, but Marcelle blocked her path. “You won’t escape me this time. I’ll feel your blood dripping from my fangs before I let you go.”

I pushed harder, trying to make it to Wren, attempting to save her.

Wren lifted her blade. “Your cruelty makes you weak.”

She struck out, but Marcelle ripped the blade from her hands with his teeth. Blood poured from his mouth, so dark it was nearly black. Wren leveled a kick at his head, shoving the blade farther into his mouth. Marcelle howled in pain.

One, two, three arrows pierced his hide, just as I reached him.

Marcelle stumbled. My teeth sank into his neck, and the taste of his blood was foul on my tongue.

Rotten. But I didn’t let go. I shook the red wolf, feeling his neck snap, but I knew it wasn’t enough.

My teeth sank deeper until I felt his carotid artery.

I clamped down on it and ripped it free.

Rhys raced forward, his hand punching into the red wolf from behind his shoulder blade, pulling his heart free.

“Give it to me,” Hera yelled.

Rhys threw it toward her in some macabre game of catch, and Hera managed to snag it from the air, instantly beginning her chanting. A few moments later, the heart was engulfed in flames. She dropped it to the forest floor, breathing heavily. “He’s dead. Now, he’s really dead.”

But it wasn’t enough. There were still far too many wolves. The only one I didn’t see was Bastian. The goddamned coward.

The inky black wolf I knew was Mei took on two mercenary wolves. One sank its teeth into her hindquarter, but Clara snarled in fury and pounced on him, snapping his neck.

Wren struggled to her feet as two wolves charged at her.

“You take the brown. I’ll take the russet,” Ender ordered.

I lunged at the brown one, raking my claws over its face as Wren stabbed it through the heart. Ender and Franco took down the second with arrows and bullets.

But it seemed as if it would never end. The invasion just kept coming. We were fighting them off, but we were struggling.

Locke leveled his weapon at a wolf about to lunge at Hera. He got off two shots before the whole world slowed.

I took in everything in the pauses between inhales and exhales. Bastian stepping out from between the trees. His claws lengthening. Those claws ripping across Locke’s throat.

His eyes went wide with shock as he crumpled to the ground. And then he didn’t move at all.