Chapter 24 - Reeyan
The wolf that tears through the ceremony’s defenses doesn’t belong to anyone I recognize.
I shift before my mind even registers the decision.
Bones reshape themselves as my human form collapses into something faster, stronger, more deadly.
Around me, other wolves do the same—pack warriors from multiple territories respond to the threat with the kind of synchronization that only comes from shared danger.
Sera’s wolf appears beside mine; her silver-blonde fur catches the moonlight as she snarls at the advancing Thornridge wolves. The ceremony guests scatter to defensive positions while fighters move to intercept the attack.
Stay close, I send through our fresh bond.
I can fight, she responds, and there’s steel in her mental voice that wasn’t there before the curse broke.
More Thornridge wolves pour through the border, at least twenty by my count. Behind them, figures in human form carry devices I recognize all too well. Suppressors designed to cut shifters off from their wolves, to make us vulnerable and weak.
The Llewelyn women who just experienced freedom for the first time in their lives don’t cower or flee.
They shift with a fluidity that speaks to connections no longer hampered by magic.
Thora Silvermane’s massive gray wolf launches herself at a Thornridge male twice her size, fighting with a ferocity I’ve never seen from her before.
Matriarch Lydia coordinates defensive positions with the calm authority of someone who’s led warriors for decades. Her wolf is smaller than most, but she moves through the chaos like water finding its path, directing others to where they’re needed most.
Bastian incoming, Dorian warns through pack communication. Human form, carrying suppressors.
My hackles rise as the Thornridge operative appears at the edge of the battle. He moves with the confidence of someone who thinks he’s already won, carrying one of those damned devices like it’s a trophy.
“Sera!” he calls out over the sounds of fighting. “Come with me now, and I’ll spare your friends.”
She doesn’t even acknowledge him with a response. Her wolf circles closer to mine, prepared to fight rather than negotiate.
I position myself between them as Bastian advances. Every instinct I have screams to tear his throat out for what he tried to do to her, for everything he did to Raegan before she figured out what a snake he is.
“This is pointless,” he continues, talking to Sera like I’m not even here. “You think breaking some ancient curse makes you strong? You’re still just an omega who needs protection.”
Wrong thing to say.
Sera’s wolf moves so fast I barely track it. She hits him from the side with enough force to knock the suppressor from his hands. The device skitters across the ground, and I crush it under my paw before he can recover it.
Bastian shifts to wolf form, abandoning the pretense of negotiation. His brown coat blends with the shadows as he circles us both, looking for an opening.
Multiple suppressors detected, Veva’s voice cuts through pack communication. She’s positioned somewhere nearby with her magical abilities ready to counter Thornridge’s technology. I can disrupt them, but I need time.
How much time? Oren asks.
Thirty seconds per device.
Thirty seconds is an eternity in a fight like this. Bastian lunges for Sera, and I intercept him midair. We collide with enough force to make my teeth rattle. His jaws snap toward my throat, but I twist away and rake my claws across his shoulder.
Blood darkens his fur. He yelps and retreats, reassessing his strategy.
Around us, the battle continues. Ash fights beside her pack with the kind of coordination that comes from years of leading warriors. Kira’s wolf tears through two Thornridge bastards while Emaline provides backup. Their teamwork is flawless despite the chaos.
But Bastian isn’t interested in them. He wants Sera, and he’s willing to go through me to get her.
He’s trying to separate us, I warn her as Bastian feints left, then goes right.
Let him try.
Her confidence surprises me. The reserved, emotionally distant woman I met just weeks ago has transformed into someone who knows her own strength.
Bastian shifts back to human and produces another suppressor from the satchel around his neck, and this one activates before I can destroy it.
The device emits a high-pitched whine that makes my wolf want to crawl out of my skin.
I feel my connection to my animal form start to weaken, like someone’s pulling us apart.
Sera staggers as the suppressor affects her, too. Her wolf form flickers, threatening to collapse back into human shape at the worst possible moment.
“That’s better,” Bastian gloats, his voice smug. “Now we can talk like civilized people.”
Veva’s magic rushes across the battlefield as she works to counter the suppressor’s effects. I can feel her power wrapping around the device, trying to unravel its function.
Hold on, she sends. Almost have it.
But Bastian isn’t waiting. He advances on Sera while she’s vulnerable, back in wolf form with his teeth bared and ready to finish what he started.
I throw myself at him again. This time, my attack lacks the power of my full wolf strength, weakened by the suppressor’s influence. We tumble across the ground in a tangle of fur and claws and snapping jaws.
Pain blooms in my foreleg as his teeth find purchase. I respond by going for his throat, forcing him to choose between maintaining his grip and defending himself.
He chooses defense, releasing my leg to avoid my counterattack.
Now! Veva shouts.
The suppressor explodes in a shower of sparks and broken circuitry. My connection to my wolf snaps back into place with such force that I nearly black out from the rush.
Sera’s transformation stabilizes instantly. Her wolf rises to full height, and there’s something different about her now. Breaking the curse has changed more than just her emotional range. Now, she has the power to fight back.
She launches herself at Bastian with speed that takes us both by surprise. Her jaws close around his back leg, and she pulls him off balance with a strength she shouldn’t possess.
I move to support her, but she doesn’t need it. The weeks of research and fighting to understand herself have prepared her for this moment. She knows exactly how to use her restored abilities.
Bastian tries to shift back to human form, probably hoping to use his hands to fight more effectively. But Sera doesn’t give him the chance. Her teeth find his scruff, and she shakes him like he weighs nothing.
Sera, wait, I warn, worried she’s lost herself to rage.
I know her well enough to know she’d never forgive herself for taking a life. That burden should fall to me.
I’m not going to kill him, she responds, surprisingly calm. But he needs to understand what he tried to take from us.
She releases Bastian and backs away, giving him room to retreat. Blood stains his fur from multiple wounds, none fatal, but all painful enough to make him reconsider his approach.
Bastian hesitates for a moment like he’s considering another attack. Then his survival instincts win over his pride, and he turns to flee.
Let him go, Oren orders through pack communication. We have bigger problems.
He’s right. The main Thornridge force is being pushed back by the combined defenders, but there are still pockets of fighting throughout the ceremony grounds. I scan the battlefield and count at least a dozen ongoing skirmishes.
Sera and I are moving to support the eastern flank, I report.
Within minutes, the last Thornridge operative falls or flees as allied forces secure the perimeter. Dorian coordinates cleanup operations while Oren checks for casualties. The defensive positions hold, and the ceremony site remains intact despite the attack.
Veva approaches with Emin beside her, both looking exhausted from the magical support they provided during the battle.
“How many suppressors?” I ask.
“Seven total,” Veva reports. “All destroyed or disabled. They won’t be using that technology against us again.”
“Can they rebuild?”
“Possibly, but it would take months. By then, the Llewelyn wolves will be fully adapted to their restored abilities.”
Sera stands and surveys the battlefield. Bodies of fallen Thornridge operatives lie scattered across the ground, but none of our defenders were killed. Injured, yes, but alive.
“We won,” she says, like she can’t quite believe it.
“You broke a three-hundred-year-old curse and defended your people against a coordinated attack,” I correct. “That’s more than winning. That’s changing history.”
The Llewelyn women start to gather as the shock wears off and understanding sets in. They’re free—not just from the curse, but from the limitations it placed on their wolves, their emotions, and their choices.
Caelan, Sera’s younger sister, pushes through the crowd and throws her arms around her. “Thank you,” she sobs. “Thank you for being brave enough to do what the rest of us couldn’t.”
“I had help,” Sera reminds her, glancing at me.
“You had a partner,” I correct.
The celebration that follows is unlike anything I’ve witnessed. Llewelyn women embrace each other with real warmth instead of formal restraint. They laugh without holding back, cry without shame, and express joy with an openness that would have been impossible before the curse broke.
Sera stands beside me as we watch her pack discover who they really are beneath three centuries of magical suppression. Her hand finds mine, and I feel her happiness through our bond like sunshine after a long winter.
“What happens now?” she asks.
“Now, we help your pack adjust to freedom while we figure out what our future looks like.”
“Our future as a mated pair, or our future as pack historians?”
“Both. Everything. All of it together.”
She leans against my shoulder, and I wrap an arm around her. The battlefield still shows evidence of the conflict we just survived, but the celebrating crowd makes it clear that something more important happened here tonight.
“I can feel my wolf so clearly now,” she tells me. “Before, it was like she was behind a wall. I knew she was there, but I couldn’t quite reach her. Now she’s just…here. Part of me in a way she never was before. I couldn’t have fought back against the suppressor otherwise.”
“That’s what the curse took from you. Full integration with your animal form.”
Matriarch Lydia addresses the crowd, her voice carrying across the ceremony grounds.
“Tonight, we broke free from a curse that shaped our culture for three hundred years. Tomorrow, we begin learning who we really are without magical chains binding our hearts and wolves. It won’t be easy, but nothing worth having ever is. ”
The crowd responds with cheers and howls, both human and wolf voices joining together in celebration.
“Thank you,” Sera says quietly, just for me. “For believing this was possible when I wasn’t sure myself.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to try.”
We stand together as the celebration continues around us.
The Thornridge threat has diminished significantly with Bastian’s retreat, and their tactical advantage destroyed.
The Llewelyn pack has gained something they’ve never had—true freedom to choose their own paths with their wolves fully present and strong.
And Sera and I have found something neither of us expected when we started this research. Not just partnership or shared purpose, but genuine love built on trust and mutual respect, and the kind of connection that only comes from facing the impossible together.
The future stretches ahead with new challenges and opportunities, but we’ll face them as true partners bonded by choice and strengthened by the magic we helped break.