Chapter 65 #2
I roar the command loud enough to force all my wolves racing ahead of me to heel by instinct alone, but it’s only heard by my pack. The wolves in the other packs, those who can’t hear me through the link, keep running.
And the hidden horror unveils itself.
It’s not scythes. It’s not so kind.
As the wolves meet the hidden barrier drawing a line between us and them, the grass under their paws flares bright orange, growing too quickly to be natural, crawling up their legs before they can even yelp. It burns through fur and flesh, turning them into char before I can take my next breath.
I force the shift on instinct alone, just to get the warning out fast enough.
“WITCHES!”
The air grows terrifyingly still. Then comes the laughter—and it chills my bones. Reality snaps in half.
It’s not clean like Katerina’s magic, not some warbling wall. Webbed, black lines branch up air itself, making it look like glass about to shatter, and through the fractures, we see the hidden truth.
Just like Julian and I saw before. The rest of the rogues standing in front of what’s left of their camp, a pack of them …
and Goddess help us, there are so many of them.
One blonde fucker stands at the front, but that’s not even the worst of it.
It’s the pair of witches flanking Oliver’s sides—eyes lit up in full-brown inferno orange.
Katerina said they might be here, but we hadn’t seen any when we first came, hadn’t smelt any. Even she hadn’t sensed them. We’d hoped that if she was wrong, we’d be close enough to kill them. But at this distance? They’ll torch a hundred of us before we get the chance.
My heart stutters, infected by raw fear when one of the witches parts her lips, and I think to do the same so I can call the only witch I know, but I don’t need to.
Thunder cracks overhead, and magic I know slithers underfoot. Its owner appears a moment later, a deceptively small girl hovering above in the dead space between us and them.
“Another one,” a warrior whispers with unmasked horror.
“No. No … That one’s ours,” I breathe as relief nearly sends me to my knees. “That’s … that’s Kat.”
“Well,” Katerina drawls overhead as she gazes down at the witches. “Are we going to do this, or am I just here to look pretty?”
The witches’ smiles disappear a moment before they take to the air to attack. The first strikes with a blazing whip of fire that soars towards Katerina, cracking in the air like a gunshot that sets the rest of us back into motion.
Max pushes against me, forcing my shift as I run into the valley and land back on my paws. Snarling, I race down the hillside, every wolf around me charging towards the chaos.
Claws and teeth clash with rabid snarls as bodies collide and the real fight begins. No, not a fight. A bloodbath.
Rogues are torn apart limb from limb, splashing the soil with tainted blood while we rain down on them in destructive numbers.
Magic poisons the air like it did that night with Katerina, but it’s not nearly as unrestrained.
They blast her with attack after attack, but it might as well be a light show with the way she swats them down before returning one twice as strong.
I keep my eyes on Oliver because Reon’s not here. Wherever he’s hiding, I’ll snuff him out soon, but I can only handle one demon at a time, and this one is an amber-eyed nightmare in foreign skin.
It’s not Oliver, not the one Julian knew. I know that the moment he shifts and I catch a glimpse of those crazed eyes.
Oliver always fought when he needed to. I remember every single time he put me down for going at Julian, but he never enjoyed it. This one does.
Which makes what I have to do a hell of a lot easier.
If I get to him first, Julian doesn’t have to. I take the hit, carry the weight, and Julian gets to hate me for it instead. Fine by me.
But Oliver—or whatever the fuck he is now—doesn’t make it easy.
He doesn’t stay in the middle of it, leading the charge.
He moves out of the fray, carving his path through wolves like it’s sport.
He dims the light of my pack bond, a bond he should’ve known and felt …
but there’s nothing behind those eyes. Nothing.
He runs ahead, and my mind rattles as I try to make out his path. If he’s trying to escape? Is there a rendezvous point? Somewhere Reon’s waiting? Was there more to this?
I try to keep myself alive with one eye on the threat. A threat that’s—fuck!—he’s getting away.
Stop him, I snarl through the bond. Stop that fucking wolf!
They all hear me, some try to follow suit. But it’s the one I wish would stay the furthest away who actually heeds the call.
There’s a flash of white before Julian cuts into his brother’s path, forcing the wolf to a stop and face him.
My heart skids to a screeching halt as I watch Julian dig his claws into the earth with a warning growl. He looks every bit the alpha I know him to be, snarling behind his long canines, but I know those eyes.
I can see the way they break as he faces his brother.
If Oliver sees it too, then he doesn’t care, because he still charges straight at him with open jaws and a resolve to kill that’s all rogue.