Chapter 60
The night had turned into slaughter. Kaldrek barreled through another Noskari, his claws ripping clean through its torso as it lunged toward one of his wolves.
It barely had time to react before he ripped it apart, its body collapsing into itself as if it had never fully belonged to the world to begin with.
They didn’t whisper anymore. There were no voices curling through his mind. No manipulation. No taunting. They had stopped playing and now they came to kill. Or to feed. Or both. Kaldrek didn’t care, because he would destroy every last one of them.
Ironwolf held their ground. Not one of them had fallen.
But the screams—
Fuck, the screams. They poured from the manor, echoing through the night, cutting through him far deeper than any wound could.
Humans. Servants. Guards. All part of Evelyne’s home, her family.
Her pain hit him like a blow. It ripped through the bond, grief and fear tangled together in a way that made his chest tighten until he could barely breathe.
The feeling was so desperate, he turned instinctively toward the manor. He needed to get to her.
Now.
The Oathroot wolves were with her, but could he trust them to keep her safe? How many Noskari had made it inside? He trusted their courage. He trusted their hearts. But courage would not be enough if the manor had already become a slaughterhouse, and there was too much at stake for faith alone.
His gaze snapped to Holden. He was locked in combat with two Noskari at once, his movements growing more strained with every passing second.
Aurelia fought beside him, still in wolf form, but slower now.
Blood darkened her fur, and Kaldrek knew she was hurt.
He also knew Holden would not leave her.
Not while she still stood. Not if she fell.
The creatures’ numbers were thinning, though.
They could do this. They only had to hold a little longer.
Then, just as Kaldrek brought another creature down, a heavy pressure rolled through the trees like a wave. His whole body went rigid. He felt it before he understood it, the darkness pressing in from every side, thick and ancient and wrong.
This group of Noskari was not the attack.
It was just the beginning.
They were surrounded. Not by a scattered pack of monsters, but by an army.
He had never felt darkness like this before, never anything so vast, so suffocating, so hungry for control.
Panic surged through him, but he crushed it instantly.
He could not let Evelyne feel his fear through the bond.
He could not let the pack sense it either.
They were already exhausted from the run, bloodied from the fight, and now he needed to think.
He needed a goddamn second to think.
There’s more, he warned his pack and mate.
The ground shook, and then they came.
The next wave spread across the grounds like a storm breaking, bodies flooding forward in numbers that dwarfed those they had already fought. Shadows upon shadows, moving fast and swallowing the distance between them.
Kaldrek’s chest tightened. There weren’t enough of them.
Not. Even. Close.
No backing down. You hear me? We all fight until our very last breath.
Pride and savage exhilaration surged through Kaldrek as the pack answered his command. Claws, teeth, and bodies collided in a deafening clash, the clearing erupting into violence.
Pistols fired to his left as Alaric charged into the fight with a handful of guards at his back, their weapons raised, their faces set with grim determination.
More shots rang out. More Noskari fell. Alaric moved from daggers to pistol to close combat with a speed and fluency that told Kaldrek he was trained well enough to hold his own, at least for now.
Sorrow flooded the bond, fierce enough to stagger him. Evelyne was not merely grieving. Something unseen was crushing her beneath its weight. Gods, he needed to get inside.
The thought cost him a heartbeat, and a heartbeat was all the Noskari needed. Claws slashed across his eye, pain bursting white-hot through his skull.
Kaldrek furiously slammed the gray-skinned bloodsucker to the ground and ripped off its head just as a small sphere of light glimmered through the night, a fragile glow he had seen before. Felt before.
Cillian had made it back.
Already, a cluster of Noskari recoiled from the light, retreating step by step toward the wolves waiting in the dark. Right where Ironwolf would finish them.
Good.
Kaldrek spun, searching for the next Noskari to tear apart, but each one he brought down did nothing to dull the pain carving through him.
Not Evelyne’s grief. Not the terror and exhaustion bleeding from his pack.
Not the hollow snap in his chest each time one of his wolves fell and the bond went silent.
Another cry split the night.
One of his own.
Kaldrek felt the life vanish before the body hit the ground. Uncontrollable grief surged through him and though he fought to keep it from reaching Evelyne, some part of him broke.
His gaze swept the estate. Fallen guards. Alaric’s men bleeding into the grass. Wolves limping, staggering, fighting on fumes while more Noskari poured from the dark in a tide that did not end.
They could not win. Not like this.
There was one thing left to try.
One desperate, dangerous thing he had hoped never to need, because he did not know whether it would save them or damn him. But hesitation would kill them all.
So Kaldrek ran.
Away from the fight. Away from his pack. Away from Evelyne.
Toward the grove.
Toward the only power he had left to seek.