Chapter 17 #2
With the destination set and adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dominic tightened the grip on his magic and steeled himself. He offered one last look at his pack, measuring their resolve, then nodded.
“Let’s go.”
Magic cinched tight around him, the world narrowing to a single, weightless point. For the briefest moment, there was only silence and darkness before the world snapped back with a jolt.
Dominic landed hard, frozen grass crunching beneath his boots, the cold air burning his lungs.
It started to sleet. Needle-fine sheets blew sideways off the bay, stinging his skin and slicking the ground, turning the world into a blur of black hedges and silver glare.
Beyond the iron gates, the estate rose like a fortress, lit up for a celebration that had no business existing this close to civilized society.
He felt the wards before he saw them, a low hum that crawled under his ribs like a second heartbeat. The magic here was different from what he’d encountered in Savannah. It was layered, braided, fed by something ancient and…hungry.
Chapel landed to his left in a crouch, blades already drawn, curls plastered to her head. Thierry appeared on his right, silent and pale, eyes tracking the gate line, scanning for threats.
A few yards away, the air rippled as Saint and his team appeared. They didn’t waste time orienting themselves, but fanned out the moment their boots touched the ground.
“Sammy? Can you hear me?”
But he already knew the answer.
The emptiness where Sammy should have been felt like a wound that refused to clot. No tether. No answering presence. Just the knowledge that his mate sat inside those wards, dressed up like a doll and offered like a prize.
Dominic moved toward the fence line, sending out tendrils of energy as he tested the thin places where the perimeter spell had been patched instead of rebuilt. Runes flared, primordial sigils that glittered across the gates like lacquer.
Holding his palm against the pulsating barrier, he gathered his magic, concentrated it, and drove it into one of the weakened seams. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
The wards growled to life, stealing his breath as the opposing magic collided with his. Pain lashed up his arm and through his body, the resistance gnashing against him like a thousand shallow cuts.
Dominic braced and shoved everything he had at it.
The wards bowed and shuddered. Piece by piece the spell began to unravel as sigils fractured into sparks of gold beneath the onslaught. With one final surge, the barrier collapsed, disintegrating into a shower of light.
He hadn’t just carved a path forward, though. He had revealed the obstacles hidden behind the magic.
Shadows gathered at the far end of the drive, moving too fast and too coordinated to be human. Halfway across the lawn, one of them shuddered and dropped to all fours, bones cracking as fur rippled over skin. Another guard doubled over. Then another.
Wolves, bears, and big cats raced toward them, eyes reflecting the floodlights that illuminated their arrival like a runway.
Behind them, something monstrous skittered between the trees on too many legs.
A tiger prowled the fence, head low and shoulder blades sawing, its tail slashing through the air with agitation. A growl rumbled from its throat, deep and ominous, when its gaze landed on Kennedy, singling her out as the weakest of the group.
Dominic smirked.
“Oh, okay.” The female sounded almost giddy. Then she flung her dagger to the side, almost as an afterthought, the blade finding its mark in a guard’s throat with deadly accuracy. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
Her body snapped and jerked as she strode forward, the shift tearing through her until an enormous gray wolf stood in her place. Ears pinned, hackles raised, lips peeled back in a feral snarl, she charged into the swarm of guards, eyes locked on the big cat.
Dominic lost sight of her when a demon separated from the horde and lunged at him with a stun baton that crackled with violet light. Irritated, he caught the end of it with his bare hand and crushed it, sparks spitting through his fingers.
Then he slammed his palm into the male’s chest and sent him sailing backward across the lawn. His boots carved deep grooves through the grass until he eventually hit the ground and stopped moving.
Two more guards rushed him, but before he could dispatch them, a blur of red streaked past him. Launching himself at the attackers, Boone twisted in mid-air, his jaws snapping around the neck of one as he slammed his hind legs into the other.
Chapel dove into the fight, all rage and slashing blades.
When a female guard stumbled past her, Chapel dropped her shoulder and plowed into her, using the momentum to throw her into the gatepost with a resonating crack.
Farther down the drive, Thierry moved like smoke, cutting through bodies before they even knew he was there.
He didn’t waste energy, every movement precise and lethal. Grabbing a suited male around the neck, he rammed him face-first into a nearby tree, then released him like he was nothing more than litter.
Moving as a unit, the pack cut across the estate like a knife through velvet. Angling away from the front of the mansion, they followed the stone perimeter wall around the side, toward the sounds of celebration at the back.
Ornamental trees and sculpted hedges blurred past as security converged from every direction. A wolf the color of midnight launched from behind a marble statue, jaws snapping for Dominic’s throat. He caught it midair by a fistful of scruff and drove it into the ground hard enough to crater the sod.
To his left, Kennedy slammed shoulder-first into a sleek panther, the impact sending both predators skidding through the grass. Saint flanked his other side, clearing a path, hamstringing a lunging beast before it could reach Dominic’s back.
More guards poured out from service paths and side doors—some still human, some already half-shifted, faces lengthening, hands tipped with claws.
Boone slammed one into the side of the mansion hard enough to make the foundation tremble. Chapel took another, dragging him down in a tangle of fur and limbs.
Dominic didn’t slow down to watch the end of it.
Ahead, the hedges thickened and the path narrowed, funneling foot traffic toward the back of the property. Nearing the corner, where the walkway transitioned into manicured gardens, he felt it—the vibration in the air that had nothing to do with the battle that raged around him.
The second ward hit him like a battering ram.
It shimmered as he bounced off it, a taut shield woven into the hedgerows and buried under the flagstones. It wasn’t the sloppy perimeter spell at the gates. This was deliberate, reinforced, and fed from multiple anchors.
Before he could even form a plan of attack, Saint materialized beside him, skin slicked with sweat and limbs shaking with effort. They looked at each other, a lifetime of understanding passing between them, and nodded.
Rather than attack the barrier directly, they punched their magic into the ground like spears. The earth answered with a shudder, the ward-line warping as if something had taken a bite out of it.
Together, they tore through the enchantments with brute force, ripping open a narrow corridor barely wide enough for their team to pour through.
Diving through after them, Dominic hit the ground hard and rolled, Saint crashing through beside him, right as the shield snapped closed at their heels and resealed itself.
He gained his feet first and reached for his brother, but there was no time to celebrate their victory.
Gasps and screams punctuated their arrival, guests scurrying for cover while guards formed protective circles around them. They weren’t a threat, though, so Dominic spared them barely more than a passing glance as he charged through the gardens.
White satin, champagne, diamonds. Warm air perfumed with expensive cologne and crushed flowers. A neat row of young Otherlings dressed in scraps and glitter, lined up like merchandise beneath bright display lights.
He spotted Sammy instantly.
Platinum hair cut too short. Dark-lined eyes with golden shimmer. Leather and sheer fabric that screamed look at me even as he sat too still, shoulders rigid, trying to be brave for the trembling boy beside him.
And wrapped around the stage itself, separate from the other wards, he felt the third barrier—dense, ancient, and vicious. The kind of magic that didn’t just keep people out. It punished them for trying to enter.
Dominic’s vision narrowed until there was only the dais and the space between them. He reached for his magic to jump—and the stage ward sank its teeth into him. Pain flashed hot behind his eyes, a warning wrapped in razor wire.
If the garden ward had been a locked door, this one was a guillotine.
Fine.
He lifted his hand toward the invisible barrier that ringed the stage and poured power into it until the air screamed. The ward-line bowed, shuddered, and flared brighter, throwing harsh light across the crowd as guests recoiled in panic.
Dominic heard Saint’s distant roar from his left, while Chapel’s laughter turned sharp and vicious at his back.
At the podium, the auctioneer lifted a polished gavel, smiling as if this were theater rather than carnage. He was too calm, too poised, too confident that the wards would protect him.
Dominic shoved harder, power screaming in his veins.
“Sammy!”
Across the stage, his mate’s head snapped up, eyes locking on Dominic for one perfect heartbeat, recognition flaring like a match in the dark.
The gavel came down with a crack that seemed to split the night.
Sammy flinched, his mouth falling open, and his body jerked as if yanked by an invisible chain. For a fraction of a second, he hung there, fingers clawing at empty air.
Then he was gone.