Chapter 23 - Wyn
“All units, weapons free,” I radio as debris rains down. “Thornridge has begun its assault.”
Around me, our carefully positioned alliance springs into action.
Dora, Raegan’s roommate from school, who has joined the fight, moves with her Llewelyn unit, and their blue and silver armor gleams as they emerge from concealment.
Her red hair streams behind her as she leads a flanking maneuver toward the advancing Thornridge forces.
“Second weapon charging,” Theodore reports from his position. “Target appears to be the command center.”
Sera’s voice comes through the Llewelyn communication network. “Northern approach clear. Thornridge scouts eliminated.”
“Sage,” I call to the witch enhancing Raegan’s abilities, “can you disrupt their targeting?”
“Working on it,” she responds, pressing her hands against Raegan’s temples as my wife extends her psychic abilities toward the Thornridge weapons.
Blood begins trickling from Raegan’s nose, but the charging weapon wavers as its energy signature becomes unstable.
“Got it,” she gasps. “But I can’t hold interference on multiple weapons at once.”
“Then we prioritize. Focus on weapons targeting our main positions.”
Thornridge forces advance across the valley floor, moving toward our bait position with professional competence. Their magical weapons provide devastating cover fire that forces several allied units to abandon prepared positions.
Elder Nettle’s voice carries across the battlefield as she coordinates witch covens. “Barrier networks activating. Civilian shelters are now protected.”
Captain Morwen appears beside me. “My units are in position for the counter-assault. Waiting for your signal.”
“Not yet,” I tell her. “We need them fully committed to the trap first.”
Jay monitors enemy communications from his concealed position. “Thornridge command believes our eastern defenses are broken. They’re accelerating the assault timeline.”
“Perfect,” Raegan says as Sage steps away to give her space, then she staggers, making herself appear weak and still drained.
“Target is compromised,” a Thornridge scout reports over their communications. “Omega appears to be suffering from psychic collapse.”
“Excellent,” Mordaunt’s voice responds. “Begin capture immediately.”
The assault teams accelerate their advance, convinced they’re about to complete their primary objective with minimal resistance. Behind them, Mordaunt himself appears on the battlefield, a massive figure directing magical weapon fire.
Dorian’s voice cuts through pack communications from his hidden position. “Enemy forces are bunching up exactly as planned. Ready for coordinated strike.”
“All units stand by,” I announce. “Wait for the signal.”
Thornridge fighters close to within sixty yards of our position. Fifty yards. Forty.
My wolf snarls beneath my skin, every protective instinct screaming to get Raegan away from the approaching danger. But I force myself to hold a position. She's not some fragile thing that needs sheltering; she's the reason this trap will work. The reason we have any chance at all.
I watch her adjust her rifle, see the steady focus in her eyes despite the blood on her face, and something fundamental shifts inside me. Not her husband trying to protect his wife. Her partner trusts her to do what needs to be done.
“Now,” I whisper to Raegan.
The signal unleashes chaos across the valley.
Pack fighters emerge from concealed positions, attacking Thornridge's flanks with coordinated strikes. Llewelyn forces follow their matriarch’s orders as they execute flanking maneuvers that cut off retreat routes.
Elder Nettle’s witches drop concealment spells and begin offensive magical operations.
“Shift,” I tell Raegan, then drop my human form to join the assault.
My wolf carries me across the battlefield faster than any human could run. Around me, other pack fighters do the same, and our coordination through pack bonds allows for seamless cooperation.
Eastern flank secure, Dorian sends through our connection. His massive brown wolf tears through Thornridge defenders with brutal competence.
Weapons teams neutralized on the north approach, Theodore’s mental voice adds as his wolf eliminates a magical weapon crew.
Emin’s voice joins the pack communication from his position with Veva. Caster teams ready to amplify psychic disruption on your command.
Jay provides tactical updates from his observation post. “Enemy reserves committing to support the main assault. They’re taking the bait completely.”
A Thornridge wolf tries to flank my position, but I sense his approach through pack awareness before he’s visible. My counterattack drops him before he can raise his weapon.
Captain Morwen’s Llewelyn forces execute their planned assault with devastating effectiveness. Their training in magical weapon countermeasures allows them to disable the Thornridge artillery faster than we ever could’ve hoped for.
“Witch covens, begin offensive operations,” Elder Nettle commands. Around the battlefield, robed figures emerge from concealment to attack enemy positions with concentrated magical force.
Mordaunt moving toward the omega position, comes a new voice through pack communication. I recognize Oren’s mental signature even though he’s supposed to be maintaining concealment.
Stay hidden until the optimal moment, I send back. We need you in reserve.
Negative. He’s too close. I’m tracking his movement.
I wheel around to see the massive enemy commander rushing straight toward Raegan’s position. His wolf is enormous, easily the largest I’ve seen, with battle scars covering its dark coat.
But before I can intercept him, another figure appears near Raegan. Bastian, moving in human form, approaches while she’s focused on disrupting weapon systems.
“Hello, Raegan,” he calls out. “Time to come home.”
Raegan turns toward him, and her wolf pelt melts as she changes to human to match him.
“You want to take me?” she asks. “Let me show you what I’ve learned.”
She extends her psychic abilities directly into Bastian’s mind. His confident advance stumbles to a halt as his face contorts with sudden terror.
“Please,” he gasps, dropping to his knees. “Make it stop.”
“This is what you wanted,” Raegan tells him. “Complete access to my abilities.”
Bastian’s emotional signature becomes so saturated with horror that even I can sense it from across the battlefield. He scrambles backward, then flees in panic, screeching with every step he takes.
Focus on the weapons, I remind her through our bond.
Raegan nods and redirects her abilities toward the magical artillery. Her enhanced psychic power begins interfering with Amanzite resonance frequencies, causing weapons to misfire or lose targeting capability entirely.
But the effort is clearly destroying her. Blood flows from her nose and ears as she pushes beyond every safe limit to disrupt their entire weapons array. I skid to a halt and redirect toward her.
Watching her pour everything into saving all of us—not because I asked her to, not because anyone ordered it, but because she chose to—makes my chest ache.
This is what partnership really means. Not me protecting her from danger, but both of us fighting side by side, each using our strengths where they matter most.
If she falls here, it won't be because I failed to shield her. It'll be because we both gave everything we had to protect what matters. And somehow, that knowledge brings clarity instead of terror.
Sera’s voice sounds through communications. “Llewelyn units have eliminated three weapon teams. Remaining artillery vulnerable to psychic disruption.”
Dora adds her report, “Eastern approach secured. Thornridge forces are trapped between our positions.”
Mordaunt reaches Raegan just as I arrive. The three of us form a triangle on the small rise that’s become the focal point of the entire battle.
“Impressive,” the enemy commander growls through pack communication despite our different allegiances. “But ultimately pointless.”
He lunges toward Raegan, but I intercept him midair. Our impact sends both of us rolling down the slope, teeth and claws seeking purchase on enemy flesh.
Mordaunt is larger and more experienced, but I have something he doesn’t—absolute commitment to protecting my mate. Every attack I make is driven by the certainty that Raegan’s survival depends on my success.
We separate and circle each other, both puffing and panting. Around us, the battle rages as allied forces clash with Thornridge fighters across the valley, but everything narrows to this moment.
You fight well for a bodyguard, Mordaunt observes. But you lack the killer instinct of true leadership.
I don't bother responding to his taunt. Through the pack bond, I can sense Dorian moving into position on Mordaunt's left. Oren is approaching from concealment at exactly the right moment. Theodore is providing cover fire for our coordinated assault.
This is the difference between us. Mordaunt fights like a man who's always fought alone, expecting others to follow because he demands it. We fight as a unit, each of us covering the weaknesses of the others.
Theodore’s wolf appears on the battlefield, supporting pack fighters who are engaging Thornridge reserves. His military experience shows in how he coordinates defensive positions.
Elder Nettle’s magical barriers flicker and strengthen around civilian shelters as witch covens pour more energy into protective spells. “Non-combatants remain secure,” she reports.
Captain Morwen leads a decisive assault on the remaining magical weapons. “Llewelyn forces neutralizing final artillery positions.”
Mordaunt attacks again, trying to use his size and strength to crush me. I dodge rather than meet him head-on, letting his momentum work against him.
Support incoming, Dorian sends, just before his wolf appears on Mordaunt’s left flank.