Chapter 44
Rennick
Snow from the last storm still blankets the ground, packed down in the high-traffic paths by patrol teams and loose deeper into the trees where it hasn’t been disturbed.
My paws break through the crust as I run, crunching with each driven step.
It clings up my legs, and despite my fur as a protective layer, the chill bites through as it melts with my body heat.
The darkening sky overhead is a dull gray and the clouds are thick and hanging low.
They’re the kind that carry the threat of another storm but haven’t decided if they’re going to let go yet.
I’d prefer if they exercised restraint. I don’t want anything else delaying me from getting home to her..
It’s the third patrol shift of the day.
I can feel the strain deep in my bones already.
My shoulders burn from picking my way through uneven terrain, from checking the same borders over and over for weaknesses that might be too late to fix.
My paw pads are worn raw from the ice and freezing temperatures.
Each shift, I ignore the discomfort and push through it.
This has been the new routine since the meeting in the conference room with everyone four days ago.
The schedules are brutal and unfair, but I keep reminding myself that they’re temporary. A necessity just for now.
Even if it feels like I’m stuck in an endless loop of my body knitting itself together only for it to be time for me to go on patrol again. Rinse and repeat.
Mercer runs on my left, his dark wolf staying a pace behind me. His strides are efficient, no wasted exertion. As head enforcer, his body is honed for this. He’s the kind of male who will run until his lungs bleed and still be perfectly composed while doing it.
Danny runs on my right, younger and leaner, he has to lengthen his gait to keep up with wolves stronger and bigger than him. He’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t fall back. Hasn’t once complained. His focus is on what’s in front of him, ears cocking at every sound that might mean something.
All good signs and proof he might just make a decent enforcer if he was serious about beginning his training with Mercer.
We’re running the edge of the border that sits closest to the clearing with the runway.
It’s funny how it was a place I never gave much thought to until now, how its importance was neatly boxed away in its simple ability to bring in necessary supplies to my pack.
Never thought about it beyond that. And now, the damn thing and the vital role it plays for Tanith’s operation is one of the biggest motivations for the fight still headed our way.
We reach the farthest point of the route and find nothing waiting there. No disturbances. No signs of life that don’t belong. Turning as a unit, we begin the run back the way we came, senses still cast wide the entire time.
As we retrace our steps, Cathal’s offer whirls around in my head.
He’d framed it like it was a mercy. A favor.
When, really, I saw it for what it was—a choice that wasn’t really a choice at all.
Something that would have guaranteed suffering for a large percentage of my pack, delivered with the arrogant certainty of a man who truly believed I might accept it.
He was wrong.
There is no version of me where I could knowingly trade away the freedom of the omegas under my protection. No reality where I agree to something that cages them. And that includes the omega who owns my heart.
We’re nearly done with our shift, just a handful of miles from the ridge that will drop us down into the heart of the territory, when we hear it.
At first, it’s just one scream, distant but unmistakably human, the kind of cry that doesn’t come from surprise or fear alone but from excruciating pain.
It’s so sudden it has all three of us skidding to a stop, claws digging into the frozen earth.
Now tense, our heads pivot in unison, ears straining to pick up on what direction it came from.
Before we can pinpoint it, another cry of pain follows, then another, layered across the land instead of coming from a single point.
Some are human. Some are wolf.
The sounds overlap, voices collide in the cold air from too many different directions, and the chaos makes the truth land all at once. These cries don’t belong to my people. They belong to the trespassers sneaking onto my territory and getting caught in invisible traps.
Ashvale coven’s hidden protection spells.
Magic not meant to detain—No, Amara is well past that kind of mercy—but to maim and kill anything that threatens the lives here. The screams stand as evidence of Cathal’s wolves and Tanith’s witches paying for every step they take as they fight their way deeper.
They’re not sneaking in. They’re pushing.
The air erupts with more sound as howls answer the screams, patrol teams breaking into a run from across the territory, voices crashing together as they rush to meet the threat head-on.
I doubled my patrol teams for this window, wanting my wolves running thick at dusk because I knew when Cathal struck, it would be during the failing light when he could use the shadows to his advantage.
The three of us turn together and run, forcing more speed from tired bodies as the distance drags on, paws tearing at the ground as we eat up the miles toward the heart of the territory. Toward the line I’m meant to hold between this enemy and the community that follows me.
We’re nearly up the ridge when the waning gray light of day changes.
Pale green flashes through the trees and across the snow, bright enough to throw sharp shadows where there shouldn’t be any. Once again, grinding to a sharp stop, our senses straining as we search the tree canopy and the darkening horizon for a source that refuses to reveal itself.
The light surges again, stronger now, and doesn’t fade. At the same time, the air begins to pull taut, thin.
And with it comes a wave of power.
It doesn’t feel like wind. Doesn’t move air the way weather does.
It hits with weight, with intent. As if something invisible and massive has just shoved through them, the trees groan as they bend and sway.
Their thick trunks bow and snow is shaken loose from their branches, sheets of it raining down around us.
Every alarm bell knitted into my body goes off.
This magic is wrong, and not just because it’s unfamiliar. It feels forced, like something that was never meant to breathe has been dragged into existence and then turned loose on my territory.
This doesn’t feel like Thalassa’s familiar work. Or Amara’s. Or Noa’s.
As I think her name, the bond in my chest twists and my mate’s fear seeps through the connection. It sinks deep and refuses to ease its grip.
My wolf is already running toward her, not interested in pausing to assess or weigh threat levels. Least of all searching out the source of the green light.
All of that is unimportant in comparison to Noa’s fear.
Snow detonates beneath my paws as my body launches toward the center of the territory, toward the house where Noa had safely been when I left. The distance between us becomes the only enemy I can see or care about.
Behind me, Mercer and Danny don’t require an invitation to follow. They’re with me instantly, three bodies tearing through the trees at full speed.
I’ve barely covered a dozen lengths when something familiar and warm brushes the edge of my mind.
Her.
I use her as my focal point in the chaos warring within me.
And then Noa’s voice cuts through everything.
Ren, they’re here. Cathal and the coven. It’s starting.
Fear sinks its claws in deep, raking through me with lethal and rehearsed ease. Fear for what this means. For how long we’ve been bracing for this moment and still feeling unprepared. Fear for my pack. For the people who trusted me to keep them safe. Fear for my mate.
Noa. Stay there. Stay in the house. Gather whoever’s with you and get to the apartment above the garage.
The closet—the one we talked about. Lock it from the inside and stay quiet.
I’m on my way back to you. I don’t soften my tone.
I don’t try to hide the command in it like I usually do for her.
Now isn’t the time. I’m on my way back to you, baby.
The connection goes quiet after that, not gone but muted.
I just hope it means she’s doing exactly what I told her to do.
I push harder, lungs burning, muscles screaming as I force my wolf to give me everything he has.
And then I still demand more. When this attack truly begins, I won’t be standing anywhere that isn’t directly in front of my mate.
My responsibility. Her shield. Always.
I never understood why my father insisted on that panic room when he built the addition years ago. At the time, I believed it was just overkill. Since, I’ve concluded it was just another overlooked paranoia-induced symptom brought on by the Moon Madness he’d been secretly fighting for years.
But Noa and I talked about it. Planned for it. If things ever went wrong, she’d know exactly where to go and what to do.
I don’t question my father’s motives now, if anything I’m thankful for them.
Our minds’ connection dulls to a low hum, still there but distant. The fact that no new spikes of distress have come from her keeps me from going fucking feral with my own fear as I keep pushing my body harder to reach Noa.
I hate that there’s nothing unfamiliar about this feeling—the run to my mate when danger is closing in.
The ridge rises fast beneath my paws as the incline grows steeper, and the green glow intensifies. It saturates the air until everything it touches is stained by its ominous color.
Feet from cresting the top of the ridge, her voice finally cuts back in.