Chapter 11
This could not be real. It could not be happening. And yet it was. Evelyne stood frozen, facing someone she loved, someone who should have been safe, now hollowed out and worn like a skin by Vaelora’s darkness.
Alaric.
Was he… Was he still in there?
“No.” The word tore from her as she shook her head again and again, as though denial alone might unravel the sight before her. His eyes were all wrong, vacant and black, and that cruel, familiar grin stretched across his gray face until her stomach turned.
She was so transfixed by it, by him, that she nearly forgot the second horror in front of her.
Cillian.
Still in Alaric’s grip.
Cillian’s heels dug into the dirt as he struggled for breath, Alaric’s hand locked hard around his throat.
Whatever strength Cillian had left seemed to be draining from him, leaving him unable to shift or fight back.
His eyes were wide, glazed with panic, and every breath that escaped him came in a thin, broken rasp.
Evelyne could not move. She wanted to lunge forward, to scream, to do anything at all, but shock had seized her limbs and held them still.
Kaldrek moved instead.
At her side, he eased into a subtle fighting stance, the movement so controlled it was almost impossible to notice. He was waiting for the instant Alaric’s grip weakened, because so long as Cillian remained pinned between them, he could not strike.
“Alaric,” Kaldrek said steadily, “let him go before you make a mistake you can’t undo.”
Alaric’s smile widened slowly, and he tightened his fingers. Cillian choked, gasping for the smallest scrap of breath. Something in Evelyne’s chest cracked. The urge to cry, to fight, to beg—all of it slammed against the frozen shell of her shock, trapped and useless.
I’ve warned the others, Kaldrek told her. They’re coming.
Evelyne swallowed hard and managed a tiny nod, as if that could anchor her to her own body again.
Alaric clicked his tongue. “Kaldrek,” he murmured, the name rolling out in a deep, velvet drawl. “The alpha. Yes… yes.”
It was as if he were testing the words, reminding himself what he was looking at. But Evelyne and Kaldrek both knew—this wasn’t truly Alaric.
His gaze slid to Evelyne, and the darkness behind his eyes felt invasive, like it could see through her skin, through her fear, and into the soft places she kept hidden. Her throat tightened in answer, instinctively mirroring Cillian’s struggle.
“The one who betrayed our queen,” Alaric said, almost conversationally.
Kaldrek’s jaw flexed. “I don’t know what you mean by betrayal,” he said, voice still even. “I ridded the world of a monster, and the witch got what she deserved.” His eyes narrowed. “But I do know this… If you don’t take your hand off his throat—now—I’ll take mine around yours.”
The threat snapped Evelyne back into herself like a whip crack.
No, you won’t, she shouted down the bond, raw with panic. You can’t.
Because even if Kaldrek’s purpose was to protect her and Cillian, Alaric still had to be saved. Not ended. Not by her mate’s hands.
I won’t be sorry for what I’d do to protect you, he answered through the bond. That instinct isn’t something I choose. It’s what I am.
She believed him, because the same feral certainty lived in her chest. The urge to end anything that reached for the one she was tied to. It felt like survival, like law.
She shut her eyes, forcing herself to look beyond the threat. Because it was Alaric she needed to protect as well. And right now, no one—not even fate—was fighting for him.
Kaldrek’s snarl rolled through the air like low thunder, a warning that he was done waiting. He held himself back only because Alaric still had Cillian by the throat.
Cillian’s arms drooped, slack and heavy, as though the struggle had been squeezed out of him.
Evelyne’s breath caught as panic rose hot in her chest, her heart battering at her ribs.
The overwhelming fear for her brother’s life, the brutal truth of what Alaric had become, the terrible possibility that her mate was about to destroy him—it was going to crush her.
“Kaldrek.” She spoke his name aloud, and he twitched, turning just enough to acknowledge her.
“Kaldrekkk.” Alaric dragged out his name and clicked his tongue. “A waste of her power and a waste of strength. Let us teach you to wield the magic you were meant to hold. The power that runs within your veins. All you need is to tap into the right source and you’ll—”
“Release your grip on his throat,” Kaldrek said, the promise of death rumbling through him, ignoring the taunt of whatever demon played inside Alaric’s mind.
“What is this?” Heidara shouted as she ran toward them, wide-eyed. “Alaric,” she said, her voice turning firm. “What are you doing? Let him go. He is your friend.” Then she saw his eyes, and the words died in a gasp.
Alaric’s gaze bored into her, but Heidara didn’t seem to falter. She took another daring step closer, but this time Evelyne threw out a hand to stop her from advancing. Her friend stopped, but never took her heartbroken eyes off Alaric.
“Alaric, please. Don’t hurt him. This isn’t you. Don’t let the rot eat your kind soul.” Heidara’s voice broke.
“Stupid girl,” Alaric hissed.
His fingers slipped from Cillian’s throat. Cillian sucked in a ragged, tearing breath and collapsed to the ground, coughing as if the air itself had turned sharp. And then Alaric dissolved—his body unraveling into a smear of dark mist that poured into the night.
A chill swept through the clearing, cold as blood magic. Evelyne shivered, though she couldn’t tell if it was the darkness or the terror of what Alaric had become. Her instincts screamed at her to run to Cillian, to drag her brother away. Yet she stayed frozen, eyes locked on the drifting shadow.
Not yet. Not while Alaric could strike again from anywhere.
Gods… how had they not known he was this far gone?
“Where is he?” Holden asked, moving in beside Heidara. The rest of the pack closed in as well, bodies low and ready, while far behind them the drums and laughter still carried on, oblivious to the truth unfolding here.
No one answered. Every gaze turned to Kaldrek.
Evelyne found herself looking to him too, desperation building with every second that passed. His pupils were blown wide as he tilted his head, listening—not to the music, but to something foul moving through the dark.
“Oof—!” Heidara was yanked off her feet and slammed hard into the dirt. The mist snapped back into flesh, blackness knitting itself into Alaric’s shape right on top of her.
He looked worse now. Skin ashen, veins dark and pulsing up his neck. And his teeth—
Kaldrek and Holden launched at him at once, trying to drag him away. Alaric didn’t even flinch. He lifted one hand, fingers spreading, lining it up with Heidara’s chest as if he meant to drive it straight through bone.
Evelyne’s vision flashed to the image of her father’s heart, torn and ruined—
“No!” she screamed, and she was moving.
The world around her became chaos as cold air, churned dirt, and bodies collided. Time slowed to a sick crawl as Alaric’s hand inched closer and closer to Heidara’s heart. Cillian was dragging himself across the ground toward them, still choking, still fighting for breath.
The pack scattered—checking the perimeter, warning the others, but Evelyne barely registered it. All she could see was Heidara twisting beneath Alaric’s grip, trying to ram her knee up the way they’d practiced, fighting like hell, while Alaric remained immovable.
He was too strong. Too close.
Holden caught Alaric’s wrist, stopping the strike inches from Heidara’s chest just as Kaldrek slammed into Alaric with the full force of his body, taking him down in a brutal tackle. Holden released Alaric’s arm in time and hauled Heidara free, yanking her out from under him.
Kaldrek and Alaric hit the ground hard and rolled, and Evelyne caught a fleeting glimpse of Alaric’s sharpened teeth sinking into Kaldrek’s bicep. Kaldrek roared, pain tearing through the bond so violently she felt it as if her own flesh had split. Fear flashed through her, but fury burned hotter.
He needed help. She needed to—
Another flare of pain burned through her.
Kaldrek’s pain once more, and something in her snapped.
A scream tore out of her, and she barely heard the others shouting, warning her to stop.
But this was her mate. And Kaldrek had been right: the wolf’s instinct to protect was absolute.
Consuming. It left no room for mercy when a threat was at your mate’s throat.
So Evelyne surrendered to it and shifted.
***
Her paws tore frantically across the earth, her fangs bared to the night.
She was unstoppable. Her world had narrowed to one point: Alaric.
Nothing else mattered. No one would stand between her and her mate.
Not that Kaldrek couldn’t fight, because he could.
But Alaric’s strength was wrong—too much, too sharp, too inhuman.
And Kaldrek was still in his human skin.
Evelyne’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as she watched Kaldrek heave Alaric off his body and lunge to pin him, only for Alaric to turn with impossible speed. Razor-fine fingers shot forward and sank into Kaldrek’s throat.
No!
Evelyne felt it at once. His pure, brutal fear slammed through the bond, followed by the awful certainty that one more breath might be his last. The force of it hit her so hard it turned her blood to fire.
She pushed harder.
Kaldrek went utterly still, frozen the way prey froze when it knew escape had already slipped beyond reach. His mouth hung slightly open, shock stark on his face, while Alaric’s hand remained at his throat, patient, as though savoring how easily he could end him.
Then, slowly, Alaric drew his fingers back. And smiled.
Evelyne hit him like a storm.
Her shoulder slammed into his ribs with a sickening thud, driving him to the ground. Before he could recover, her jaws clamped down on his arm. She bit deep and yanked—once, twice, again—until something snapped.
Alaric screamed, but Evelyne didn’t care.
She shook her head violently, teeth locked, wanting to rip his arm free, wanting to tear away whatever darkness lived inside him with brute force.
Ev—Evelyne. Kaldrek’s voice frayed into her mind, broken by breath. He was still gasping.
She did not release Alaric. She dragged him across the dirt as she ran, hauling him like something she had brought down with her own hands, without even knowing where she meant to take him.
She only knew she needed distance. Time.
Space to finish this. Because all she could feel was hatred… and the echo of Kaldrek’s fear.
Evelyne, I’m all right.
No, he wasn’t. She heard it in the ragged rasp of his voice. She felt it in the bond. But the words could not reach the part of her that had shifted. That part of her knew only one command: protect her mate. End the threat.
She released Alaric’s arm only to lunge for his shoulder.
Bite.
Again.
Again.
Each time she tore away, his body jolted beneath her, weaker than before. His hands clawed at the ground, fingers digging into the earth as though he could not decide whether to fight her or beg for mercy.
And beneath her paws—something tremored. A faint rumble, like the world itself reacting to her fury.
You need to stop, Kaldrek begged. Please, love. Stop.
But she couldn’t. She truly could not stop, not even if she wanted to.
Then Alaric choked out, “You’re hurting me.”
The words struck her like cold water. Not the demon. Not the darkness wearing his body like stolen skin, but Alaric. His voice. His pain. His eyes.
What had she done?
Blood slicked his mouth, stained the dirt, pooled beneath him, and all at once the shape beneath her teeth was no enemy at all, but someone she had loved. Her jaw slackened. She reeled back, breath tearing from her, caught between instinct and horror.
Then warmth brushed her shoulder. A snout. Evelyne turned, shaking, and found Heidara beside her, wolf eyes bright and steady in the dark. Heidara pressed her head gently into Evelyne’s side.
It was not a command or a warning, only a reminder that she could still stop before she did something she could never take back.