Chapter 23 - Caelan
The riverbed smells like dust and old death.
Every step sends loose rocks skittering into the darkness.
I have to watch where I place my paws to keep from twisting an ankle on the uneven ground.
Patrick moves ahead of me in wolf form. His dark brown fur is nearly invisible against the shadowed walls of the gully, but I track him by scent and by the steady pulse of the mate bond between us.
Trenton and Deon bring up the rear. Reeyan holds the middle position.
His sandy-brown wolf keeps pace with mine as we make our way across the treacherous terrain.
My brother-in-law insisted on joining this mission the moment he learned I would be part of it.
Sera couldn’t stop me from coming, but she made damn sure someone she trusted would be watching my back.
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Patrick argued against it for nearly an hour after the planning session ended. He paced our room and listed every danger, every variable, every way the mission could go wrong.
His wolf had just marked me as his mate. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to keep me somewhere safe. I understood. I even appreciated the impulse. But Thea is my friend. Llewelyn wolves are my people. I didn’t claw my way out of one cage just to let someone else build me another.
He didn’t like my answer. The muscle in his jaw twitched the way it does when he’s biting back words he knows won’t help. But he accepted my decision, and that acceptance means more to me than he probably realizes.
The gully narrows as we move deeper into Thornridge territory. Walls of rock press in on either side, and the sky above shrinks to a thin strip of gray. Dawn is coming. We need to reach the bunker before full light, or the patrols will spot us for sure.
Patrol ahead. Patrick’s voice reverberates through my mind. Two wolves on the ridge. They’re facing the main approach.
I flatten myself against the rocks and look up.
Two shapes move along the ridgeline above us.
Their attention is fixed on the valley below.
They don’t even glance at the forgotten gully beneath their feet.
Patrick was right about Mordaunt’s arrogance.
The alpha built his defenses around the assumption that enemies would come at him head-on.
The idea that someone might slip through a crack he didn’t bother to seal never occurred to him.
Hold position, Patrick instructs. Let them pass.
We wait. My heart pounds against my ribs. I count the seconds until the sentries disappear over the far ridge. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. They’re gone.
Move, Patrick commands.
We press forward. The gully widens as we approach the eastern ridge, and I get my first real look at the Thornridge encampment spread across the basin below.
My stomach clenches at the size of it. Dozens of structures cluster around a central hall.
Smoke rises from cooking fires. Wolves move between buildings with the confidence of people who believe themselves untouchable.
The bunker. Patrick directs my attention toward a squat concrete structure half-buried in the hillside. Two guards at the entrance.
I spot them. Then I sweep my gaze across the perimeter and start counting patrol wolves. There are four on the near side. Two more emerge from behind the central hall, and another pair near the northern tree line.
That’s at least eight, Reeyan observes. You said there would be four.
Someone warned them. Patrick’s mental voice is grim. I told you there was a mole. They knew we were coming.
The words settle over me like ice water. Patrick was right. We have a traitor in our midst.
My mind races through the possibilities. Who had access? Who knew the details? The list feels impossibly long.
We’ll figure it out later, Patrick says. Right now, we focus on the mission.
He’s right. Three Llewelyn wolves are trapped in that bunker. Thea, Liman, and Fiona. They’re running out of time.
New plan, Patrick continues. I approach alone. The guards know my face. If I can convince them to stand down before the patrols notice—
You’ll be completely exposed, Deon interrupts.
Yes. But it gives the rest of you a window to reach the bunker while they’re focused on me.
And if they don’t stand down? Reeyan asks.
Then you’ll have a clear line while they’re busy killing me.
My wolf snarls at the thought. That’s not funny.
It wasn’t a joke. Patrick turns his head to look at me. His amber eyes hold mine through the bond. If things go wrong, get the prisoners and run. Don’t wait for me.
No.
Caelan—
I said no. I bare my teeth at him. We go home together or not at all. That’s the deal.
Something passes between us. An understanding. A promise. He presses his muzzle against mine for just a moment. The contact sends warmth through the bond, and I hold on to that feeling as he pulls away.
Don’t do anything heroic, I tell him.
Wouldn’t dream of it.
Patrick breaks from cover and starts down the slope toward the bunker. I watch him prowl across the open ground. His posture is relaxed. Non-threatening. Just a Thornridge wolf returning home after a long absence. Nothing to see here.
The guards snap to attention when they spot him. Confusion shows in their body language. One of them trots forward, and I recognize him from Patrick’s descriptions. Jonas. Reddish-brown fur. Lean build. He carries himself like someone still trying to prove he belongs.
Patrick and Jonas face each other. I can’t hear what passes between them because he’s using the Thornbridge connection and not ours, but I can read the conflict in Jonas’s posture.
His ears flatten against his skull. Then they prick forward.
Then they flatten again. Patrick is getting through to him.
A howl shatters the silence behind us.
I whip around. A Thornridge patrol is bearing down on our position from the north. Five wolves. Maybe six. They must have circled back and caught our scent.
Go! Patrick’s voice tears through my mind. Get the prisoners! I’ll handle Jonas!
The patrol crashes into us before I can respond.
A gray wolf lunges for my throat. I twist aside and sink my teeth into his shoulder. The taste of blood floods my mouth. He yelps and tries to shake me off, but I hold on and wrench my head sideways. Flesh tears. He screams. Deon finishes him with a bite to the neck.
More wolves pour into the clearing. I lose count of how many. I lose track of everything except the next enemy in front of me.
A brown wolf catches my flank. Pain screams through my hindquarters. I spin and rake my claws across his muzzle before he can deepen his grip. Blood sprays across the rocks before he falls back with a howl.
Trenton goes down somewhere to my left. I hear him yelp and then snarl and then go silent. I can’t stop to help him. A black wolf is already going for my throat, and it takes everything I have to twist away in time.
The bunker! Reeyan yells through the chaos. Caelan, go now! We’ll hold them!
I run.
The slope blurs beneath my paws. My wounded flank screams with every stride, but I push through the pain. Jonas is gone from his post when I reach the bunker entrance. The other guard lies motionless in the dirt. His throat has been torn out.
I plunge through the doorway without slowing.
The smell hits me immediately. Blood. Fear. Sweat. The sour stench of captivity. I shift to human form as I descend the stairs. Cold concrete bites at my bare feet. Emergency lighting paints everything in shades of red and shadow.
“Thea!” I scream. “Liman! Fiona!”
“Caelan?” The response is weak and hoarse, but I know that voice. “Is that you?”
I follow the sound to a row of cells carved into the rock. Thea reaches her arm through the bars. Her face is bruised and gaunt, but her eyes are clear. She’s alive. She’s alive.
Relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle.
“I’m getting you out.” I examine the lock. It’s heavy steel and industrial grade. “I need to find a key.”
“Behind you!”
I spin. A Thornridge wolf in human form charges down the corridor with a knife in his fist. I dodge his first swing and drive my elbow into his face.
Cartilage crunches, and blood spurts from his nose.
He staggers backward, and I follow with a kick to his knee.
He crashes to the floor with a grunt of pain.
My hands find his head before he can recover.
The snap of his neck echoes through the bunker.
I stare at the body with my hands shaking. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps. I just killed a man with my bare hands. I can still feel the moment his spine gave way beneath my fingers.
There will be time for guilt later. Right now, I have people to save.
Keys are dangling from his belt. I fumble through them, but the first one doesn’t fit. Neither does the second. The third slides home with a click, and then Thea is falling into my arms.
She sobs against my shoulder. I hold her for exactly three seconds before pulling back.
“The others,” she gasps. “Two cells down.”
We free Liman and Fiona. Both are battered. Both are weak. But both can walk, and that’s all that matters right now.
“Can you run?” I ask.
“We’ll manage,” Thea replies.
I lead them toward the exit, and the sounds of fighting grow louder with every step. Snarls. Yelps. The wet crunch of teeth meeting flesh. We emerge from the bunker into carnage.
The clearing has become a killing field.
Wolves tear at each other across every inch of ground.
Blood has turned the dirt to mud. I spot Reeyan near the tree line.
He’s holding off two Thornridge wolves at once.
Deon is fighting alone now. Trenton lies motionless near the rocks where I last saw him.
Patrick faces his brother in the center of it all.
They’ve both shifted to human form. Both are bleeding from wounds that stripe their skin. Jonas has a knife. Patrick doesn’t. The fury on Jonas’s face is terrible to witness, but something else lurks beneath it. Hurt. Betrayal. The anguish of someone whose world is crumbling.
“You left me!” Jonas screams. “You left me with them, and now you come back wearing enemy colors?”
“I’m not your enemy,” Patrick insists. “I never was.”
“Liar! You’re a traitor! You abandoned your pack!”
“Thornridge was never my pack. They killed our father. They turned us into soldiers for a war we never wanted to fight.”
Jonas lunges with the knife. Patrick sidesteps and catches his brother’s wrist. They grapple for control of the weapon while I shove the prisoners toward Reeyan.
“Get them out!” I shout. “Follow the riverbed north!”
I shift mid-stride. My wolf explodes out of me, and I sprint toward the brothers. A Thornridge wolf intercepts me. I tear through him without breaking pace. His blood is hot on my muzzle.
Patrick has Jonas pinned when I reach them. The knife lies in the dirt several feet away. Jonas thrashes beneath his brother’s weight, still fighting even though the battle is clearly lost.
“Kill me then!” Jonas snarls. “That’s what you came here to do, right? Finish it!”
“I came here to save you.” Patrick’s voice cracks on the last word. “I came here because you’re my brother and I love you and I couldn’t leave you behind again.”
Something in Jonas’s face wavers.
Patrick!
I scream the warning through our bond half a second before Bastian Corvelli explodes from the trees.
He’s in wolf form, massive, black-furred, and heading straight for me.
Time slows. I see his jaws open. I see the hatred burning in his eyes. I try to dodge, but my wounded flank betrays me. My leg buckles, and I stumble.
Patrick moves faster than I’ve ever seen anyone move.
He releases Jonas and shifts in the same heartbeat. His wolf slams into Bastian mid-leap, and they crash to the ground in a tangle of fur and teeth and claws. I scramble backward as they roll past me.
Bastian is bigger and stronger, and his jaws snap inches from Patrick’s throat. But Patrick fights like a wolf with everything to lose.
Because he is.
I watch Patrick clamp his jaws around Bastian’s throat. Bastian thrashes, and his claws rake bloody furrows down Patrick’s sides. The grip holds as seconds stretch into eternity.
A horn blasts from somewhere in the camp. Three short bursts. Retreat.
Bastian uses the distraction to wrench free of Patrick’s grip. Blood pours from his throat, but the wound isn’t deep enough to kill. He scrambles backward and shifts to human form long enough to spit blood at Patrick’s feet.
“This isn’t over,” he rasps. Then he turns and flees into the trees with the other retreating Thornridge wolves.
Patrick doesn’t chase him. He’s too wounded, and I can feel his exhaustion bleeding through the bond. He staggers toward me instead, and we both shift back to human form as I meet him halfway.
“Are you hurt?” his voice is raw as he cups my face in his bloodied hands.
I hold on to his wrists and reply, “I’m okay. “You?”
“I’ll live.”
Movement catches my attention. Jonas is still on the ground. He’s not fighting anymore. He’s staring at his brother in disbelief.
“You almost died for her,” Jonas comments as he curls his upper lip. “You would have let him kill you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s my mate. Because some things are worth dying for.” Patrick releases me and extends his hand toward his brother. “Come with us, Jonas. Please. I can’t force you. I won’t try. But I’m asking.”
The battle is over. Thornridge wolves have scattered into the trees, following the retreat signal back toward wherever Mordaunt is hiding. The ones who remain are the ones who don’t want to run anymore.
Jonas stares at Patrick’s outstretched hand. Then he looks at me. Then, at the smoking remnants of the only home he’s ever known.
He reaches up and lets Patrick pull him to his feet.
More Thornridge wolves emerge from the trees with their hands raised. Twelve of them. All young. All wearing that same shellshocked expression.
Reeyan approaches with the prisoners as he looks around the scene. “We need to move. We need to get Trenton to the healer.”
Patrick nods. “Anyone who wants out of Thornridge, follow us. You’ll be treated fairly. But if you stay, there won’t be mercy next time.”
All twelve follow us into the trees.
The journey back passes in a blur. Patrick wraps his jacket around my shoulders at some point, and his hand finds mine in the darkness.
We won. The prisoners are safe. Jonas is alive. A dozen wolves have defected.
But Mordaunt is still out there. Bastian is still breathing. And somewhere among our allies, a traitor helped make this battle bloodier than it needed to be.