Page 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

We rush to gather our things then head out. My pulse drums in my ears harder, louder with each step I take.

Harek’s parents have been kidnapped. Taken hostage. It hardly seems possible.

If anyone harms them, I will personally make them pay.

The forest changes as we cross into their territory. The air grows heavier and still. Even the birds have gone silent.

My skin prickles, and all my senses go on high alert. My inner wolf feels like it’s pacing inside me.

The rogue pack’s scent marks linger everywhere. They’re sharp, territorial, and thick with old magic that pricks at the back of my throat. My wolf stirs all the more beneath my ribs.

I tighten my grip on my sword hilt as we move through the dense undergrowth.

Einar leads us forward, his steps sure but cautious. Harek walks close beside me, silent but tense, his jaw clenched. Every line in his body screams restraint.

His parents are out here somewhere.

Lys follows close behind, disturbingly calm. His voice is quiet as he speaks. “They’ve been preparing this for some time. Every ward here screams with anticipation.”

I straighten my back. “They want me scared.”

“They want you desperate ,” Lys corrects. “Fear makes you reactive, but desperation makes you reckless.”

“Isn’t that the point? To draw me out?”

“Exactly.” He smiles faintly. “Which means we’re exactly where they want us.”

Einar glances back. “Focus.”

As if I need the reminder.

Every step grows tighter, my wolf’s instincts sharpening with the raw scent of other wolves ahead. Territorial rage tightens inside me, ready to snap. I force it down. I have to. If I lose control here, they’ll use it against me.

“We’re close.” Tension thickens Harek’s voice. “I know this clearing. My father brought me here when I was a boy.” His eyes narrow. “They’ll be waiting.”

I nod.

We continue on, slipping like shadows between the dense trees, the pulse of corrupted wards humming softly through the earth beneath our feet.

It feels like a trap, but I don’t know what or where it is. The trees eventually thin into a wide clearing ahead, moonlight slashing silver streaks across the open ground. Two figures come into view, bound at the base of a gnarled black tree.

Harek’s parents. They’re alive, but they’re pretty beat up. And not alone.

Rogue wolves prowl at the edges of the clearing, half-shifted forms crouched low, their eyes gleaming amber in the dark. Shadows coil behind them, magic weaving through the trees like black mist. They haven’t made any effort to hide. They want us to see them.

The pack’s leader stands at the center of the glade, tall and broad, fur rimming his shoulders even in partial shift. His voice rumbles out across the space before we step fully into view. “Took you long enough.”

The hairs at the back of my neck raise. My wolf strains inside me, recognizing dominance play, recognizing threat. I fight it down again. It isn’t time.

Harek moves half a step ahead, every muscle in his body poised to spring. He’s clearly fighting his desire to run directly to them.

Einar places a steadying hand on my shoulder, barely a whisper against my tense muscles. “Hold.”

I nod, breathing shallow. The curse hums faintly in my blood now, as if it senses the confrontation looming.

Lys drifts forward beside me, calm as ever. “They want you visible and upset.”

In other words, they want me to slip.

The leader’s attention settles on me fully now, a low growl curling in his throat. “Hybrid.” He spits the word like venom. “You carry the filth that broke the balance. You should not exist.”

“Yet here I am.”

The surrounding wolves snarl softly, pacing.

Harek’s parents stir against their bindings, desperate, but unable to speak through whatever spell holds them quiet.

My pulse drums beneath my skin. The wolf inside me presses harder, but I lock it down again. First, I need to see the full shape of the trap they’ve laid.

Tension in the air coils tighter, every heartbeat a countdown toward whatever they have planned.

The pack leader paces a slow circle in front of Harek’s parents. He speaks to me, but his gaze keeps flicking toward Harek like a wolf sizing up fresh prey. “You’ve broken lines that should never be crossed. Watcher blood, wolf blood, hunter blood. You’re an abomination, a scar on the land.”

I hold his stare. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m an evolution . Things are changing, and you’re afraid to lose the past. But new things are coming, and you can’t stop it. I’m going to make sure of it.”

His lips curl into something close to a grin. “We came here to reclaim what was lost.”

He raises his hand. The shadows at the edges of the clearing surge forward—more wolves, fully shifted, snapping jaws gleaming in the moonlight.

The ambush ignites like a match.

Einar moves first, cutting down one of the lunging wolves before it reaches us. Harek’s blade flashes beside me as I bring out my own, but too many wolves pour from the trees at once.

The magic hums sharply all around, meant to separate us.

I swing hard, my blade slicing into fur and flesh as the first wolf lunges toward my ribs. My wolf instincts surge with the blood scent, heat rising beneath my skin like wildfire.

“Eira!” Harek’s voice cracks through the chaos.

I turn. Too late.

Two massive wolves slam into Harek from behind, knocking him to the ground. His sword flies from his hand as claws dig into his shoulders. More shadows swarm, driving a wedge between us as he fights to break free.

My pulse spikes into panic. “Harek!”

The leader snarls, his voice cutting above the snarls. “Take him!”

They drag Harek toward the dark woods, claws tearing into dirt as he kicks and shouts, fighting against the mass of snarling fur pulling him deeper into the trees.

All of us race after them, but they’re faster. Two wolves intercept me, snapping viciously, forcing me back.

The rage inside me spikes. My vision narrows as my wolf claws for control.

Einar shouts as he cuts down another attacker, but he’s also too far to reach Harek.

Lys steps toward me, his voice a whisper. “Careful. The moment you lose yourself here, they win.”

I slam the wolf instincts down again—barely.

Harek’s screams fade into the trees.

My best friend is gone. The weight of it nearly crushes me, and I struggle to draw in a breath. With so many adversaries, we can’t run in blindly. They’ll kill us all.

We need a plan.

The clearing stills as quickly as it erupted.

Some wolves remain just beyond the tree line, amber eyes gleaming in the shadows like a ring of watchful predators. The pack leader stands alone again, calm now that his trap has sprung.

Harek is gone.

I clench my fists. “You have what you want, so let his parents go.”

The leader tilts his head slowly. “We only have part of what we want.”

He gestures, and the two wolves guarding Harek’s parents melt back into the woods, leaving the older couple huddled but free.

A sick surge of relief wars against the fresh panic surging beneath my skin.

The leader keeps his attention focused on me. “You will come to us. Willingly. Alone.”

My heart pounds louder, drowning out his words.

“If you don’t, we take him apart then send him back to you in pieces.”

Everything else disappears around me.

My father moves beside me now, his breathing heavy, sword still slick with blood. He watches me carefully, silently, waiting for my reaction.

Lys’s voice hums behind us, soft as silk. “They’re forcing your hand, exactly as expected.”

Of course they are. Because they know what I fear most. Not my wolf, not my death, not even the curse. But losing the people I love.

The leader’s eyes gleam as he waits for my response. “You have until moonrise.” He turns back into the trees, his wolves melting into the darkness with him.

The clearing falls silent again, except for the thrumming of my pulse in my ears. I stare at the place where Harek vanished, every instinct screaming to charge after him. To tear through their ranks with teeth and fury until nothing remains. But I stay frozen.

I’m so close to giving in to them. Of giving full rein to my emotions, of letting my wolf run free.

Lys steps closer, voice smooth and nearly tender. “The curse is tightening, as are the wolves. How long will you keep letting them decide who you are?”

I don’t answer. Because I don’t trust my voice.

Not anymore.