Chapter 65
There was no time to acknowledge the new mark burning beneath Evelyne’s fur.
No time to understand what it meant or what it had made of her.
The battle still raged around her, but her attention was fixed on the large male standing at the edge of the field, untouched by blood, untouched by fear, watching the slaughter as though it had been arranged for his amusement.
Kaldrek.
Or whatever wore his face now.
He became the only thing she could see. Adrenaline burned through her, sharpening grief into something hotter, something far more useful. She broke from the fight and charged toward him, stopping only when she was close enough to see the smile curve across his mouth.
“Hello, love,” he said, his voice smooth and intimate in a way that made her stomach turn.
Evelyne lowered into a crouch and bared her teeth.
His gaze drifted over her, slowly. “I do hope you enjoyed your brief reign. It would be a pity if you and that pathetic little pack of yours vanished before you learned what true power feels like.” His smile widened. “It is extraordinary, Evelyne. I cannot imagine why I ever settled for less.”
She did not flinch. She would not give him that.
This was not him. Not truly. The man she loved would never look at her with such empty delight, never speak as though cruelty were a pleasure to be savored. And yet hearing his voice shape those words made something inside her twist dangerously close to breaking.
“You could have this with me,” he said, raising a brow in a mockery of the charm that had once undone her. “You could thrive beside me.”
Those black, depthless eyes were empty of warmth, stripped of bond and love, leaving only hunger wearing the memory of him.
When she did not move, his expression shifted into something grotesquely tender.
“What is the matter, little wolf? Do you miss him?” He tilted his head, as if studying a wounded animal.
“Did it grieve you when your precious mating bond faded? When we settled into his soul and drowned out every last piece of him that belonged to you?”
A snarl tore from her before she could stop it.
Kaldrek laughed, low and wicked. “There she is.”
Fierce anger swept through Evelyne, burning past panic and grief until only wrath remained. Bright, clean, and merciless. She had heard enough from the thing wearing her mate’s skin.
She launched herself at him.
The world seemed to splinter around them, the very foundation of the land cracking beneath the force of what rose between them. Kaldrek made no move to brace himself or step forward. He only lifted one hand with terrible ease, as if stopping her required no more effort than drawing breath.
And the land obeyed.
The ground beneath her shattered with a violent, deafening crack, splitting open in jagged, branching lines that tore across the field like lightning made solid.
The soil heaved and broke apart, the fractures widening with terrifying speed until they yawned open into deep, swallowing pits.
Wolves cried out as the land betrayed them, their footing lost in an instant as they slipped, fell, or vanished entirely into the sudden collapse.
Evelyne felt the earth give beneath her. The world pitched violently sideways, throwing her hard against shifting stone and soil. The impact stole the air from her lungs, pain bursting through her chest as loose dirt and shattered rock rained down around her.
Kaldrek stood still at the center of it all, as though the destruction had bent around him rather than come from him.
His new power rolled outward in waves that warped the land itself.
With another careless flick of his hand, the ground lifted.
Entire sections of cracked earth rose as if caught in an invisible grip, then collapsed again with crushing force.
Wolves were caught beneath it, pinned, broken, buried.
And still, he did not strain. Did not care.
Evelyne forced herself upright, her legs trembling beneath her as pain tore through her body. Blood slicked her fur, and every breath came unevenly as she fought to steady herself, but there was no time to recover. No room to think. They were being destroyed.
Her gaze swept across the field, searching, counting, desperate to make sense of it all.
Then she saw Heidara, barely holding on.
The ground had split beneath her paws, leaving her clinging to the jagged edge of a deep, crumbling fissure.
Her claws scraped against loose soil as it gave way beneath her weight, every desperate movement threatening to send her into the darkness below. Another second and she would be gone.
Holden was already moving. He sprinted recklessly across the broken ground, ignoring the danger beneath his own paws as he reached her and dipped low, bracing himself against the unstable jagged rocks.
Heidara slipped once, then again, but Holden held fast, dragging her upward inch by inch with his claws until, with one final desperate pull, he hauled her free.
Relief flickered through Evelyne, before the battle swallowed it whole.
Beau surged past them, cutting down a Noskari that lunged too close to Heidara and Holden, striking relentlessly until the creature drew its last breath.
Moonshade and Glaciermaw fought beside him.
They held their ground more desperately with every passing second.
But retreat was not in them; they fought like wolves with nothing left to lose.
Evelyne turned back to Kaldrek and froze.
He had a wolf by the throat, one bare hand locked around its neck as he lifted it from the ground as though it weighed nothing at all. The wolf thrashed in his grip, claws scraping uselessly against his arm, fighting for breath, for purchase, for life.
Kaldrek only watched it struggle.
Then he threw it aside. The body hit the ground with a sickening crack and did not rise.
Something inside Evelyne broke.
Stop! she screamed down the bond. Please, Kaldrek! Please!
She let her thoughts slam into him with full force. She held nothing back now as every emotion poured out of her. Every moment, every memory, every piece of herself that had ever belonged to him.
Come back to me. Please fight this. This isn’t you—you’re killing them—you’re killing all of us—
The bond remained empty. Whatever part of him should have answered her had vanished beyond recognition, beyond reach, beyond even the pull of their mating bond.
Evelyne’s breath faltered and tears blurred her vision as the world closed in around her, the sounds of battle crashing together into something unbearable. Snarls, screams, the tearing of flesh, the breaking of bone—it all pressed in at once, endlessly.
They were losing.
They were going to die here.
For one fleeting, fragile moment, she almost let herself give in.
Almost let the exhaustion take her.
Almost let it end.
The ground beneath her paws began to warm, spreading slowly at first, then stronger, pulsing through the cracked soil like a heartbeat. Evelyne’s eyes snapped open.
The cracks brightened beneath the surface, light gathering under the earth as a low, resonant hum rolled through the field. It moved through Evelyne’s bones like a breath drawn by the land itself, deep and ancient.
Then the glow broke free.
It rose from the land, not harsh like flame or blinding like lightning, but radiant and pure, spilling across the battlefield like dawn made tangible.
For one impossible moment, everything stilled.
Wolves. Noskari. Even the wind. Then the creatures recoiled as the light reached them, their bodies folding inward as though something had struck from within.
They clawed at their chests, their heads, their own skin, stumbling as an unseen force began to tear through them.
Evelyne’s breath caught.
Cillian. It had to be him.
The light surged outward, threading through the land, through the roots, through every place the Noskari had touched.
Then they began to fall, one by one, writhing against it as black mist poured from their eyes, their mouths, their ears, like something rotten being forced out and burned away.
The tide turned, and hope, real and fragile, flared in Evelyne’s chest.
Then Kaldrek roared.
The sound shattered the moment. His body twisted and expanded, reshaping into something larger, more powerful, more terrifying than before.
A massive white wolf stood where he had been, towering over the battlefield with eyes still black, still endless, still wrong.
Around him, the Noskari fell beneath Cillian’s light.
But Kaldrek did not.
And Evelyne’s hope collapsed, because whatever had taken him still held him completely.