Chapter 17 - Dominic
He hadn’t stopped running since Julian had confessed what Layla had told him. The moment he’d heard her name, something in him had snapped. He’d shifted before the others could argue and run until his body was nothing but momentum and fury.
Stupid girl. Stupid girl.
He’d considered gutting Julian then and there for daring to hide this from him, for not warning him so he could keep an eye on her.
But panic had cut through the anger. Julian had said she’d assured him she’d warn him if she wanted to try make the climb, even if it meant going behind her mate’s back.
Dominic didn’t think she’d be stupid enough to ignore his spymaster’s offer.
But of course, stubborn thing that she was, he knew she’d have gotten it into her head that she needed to do this on her own. Some foolish notion of obligation, of desperation to prove herself.
He could only hope it hadn’t already gotten her killed.
Theodore and Julian’s paws pounded on the rock behind him. They were halfway up the mountain now; they’d reach the top soon.
Not soon enough.
Layla’s scent was old. Hours old. She’d passed this way and not yet returned.
Dominic pushed himself harder.
“I’m sorry,” Julian repeated down the pack link, “I really thought she would ask me to join her. That she would tell you.”
Dominic just growled, too furious to respond. Julian should have come to him instantly. Should never have trusted her.
“How did she manage to be gone an entire day without you realizing?” Theodore snapped. Dominic wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to.
“Three Nordan scouts are dead,” Julian snarled, “we’ve all had our hands full.”
“Quiet,” Dominic rumbled, “we’re getting close.”
They broke through the cloudbank, fur drenched, breath steaming in the frozen air.
Dominic’s teeth snapped. They were close. So close.
The scent hit him like a blade through the night.
Blood. Cold air. Wet earth. And beneath it all…her.
Layla.
Dominic’s chest constricted. He didn’t think; instinct took over. He was a dark blur tearing through the forest, claws gouging furrows in the mud, breath coming in ragged bursts.
The world narrowed to sound and smell.
Wind whipping past his ears. The rhythmic crash of paws behind him, Theodore’s brown form, smaller but faster, keeping pace. To his right, almost unseen, Julian ran like a phantom, his black coat blending into the shadows.
The forest reeked of corruption.
It clung to the trees, heavy and rancid, that same stench of metal and decay they’d found at the last hybrid attack. Every breath burned his lungs, every step sinking him further into his rage.
He should never have left her alone. He should never have shared his doubts with her, driven her to try to prove herself. He should have done a dozen things differently.
It didn’t matter. Now, every pulse of his heart matched the same thought.
Find her.
The sound came next.
Not a scream. Not yet. But a low, guttural noise from somewhere ahead, the kind of sound that didn’t belong to any living thing. His hackles rose. He exchanged a brief glance with Julian, who bared his teeth in silent understanding.
Then…the scream.
It sliced through the night, high and human and terrified.
Dominic’s blood turned molten.
He lunged forward, all restraint gone, tearing through the undergrowth. Branches whipped his face, snapping against his muzzle. The ground fell away beneath him as the scrub thinned, and suddenly the trees opened into a narrow clearing at the base of the peak.
The scent of blood was thick here. Fresh.
And then he saw her.
Layla.
She was running along the slope, her coat torn, her hair a wild tangle. Her movements were clumsy, desperate. She stumbled on the rocks, caught herself, and kept going, gasping for breath.
Behind her, the shadows shifted, and from them stepped a creature that made his red-hot blood turn to ice.
It was tall, almost man-shaped, its body hunched and uneven. Patches of fur clung to gray, scaled flesh. Its claws were curved, wickedly long, glinting even in the faint moonlight. Its face was a mockery of a wolf’s, jaws too wide, eyes glowing white.
Hybrid.
The corruption stank off it like rot.
Layla didn’t see it at first. She turned when she heard the snarl, froze, just for a heartbeat, her eyes going wide. The creature dropped to all fours, muscles bunching.
Dominic’s mind blanked. There was no thought, no plan, only the instinct that had ruled alphas for millennia.
He ran.
Snow sprayed under his paws as he burst from the tree line, the force of his movement shaking the branches. The creature’s head snapped toward him, its eyes blazing.
Layla gasped, stumbling backward as the monster lunged.
Dominic’s growl ripped through the clearing, low and primal. Every nerve in his body screamed for violence.
The last thing he saw was her, frozen, breath catching, eyes locking with his, before he launched himself forward, claws outstretched, fangs bared.
The impact shook the ground.
Dominic hit the hybrid mid-lunge, the collision sending them both sprawling across the snow-slicked slope. The creature was stronger than him, all muscle and rage, its claws tearing deep grooves into the frozen soil as they rolled.
It snarled, a wet, choking sound, and swung one massive arm.
The blow caught him across the ribs, white pain flaring through his side.
He retaliated instantly, jaws snapping shut around its shoulder.
The taste was foul, burnt iron and rot, but he bit harder, ignoring the sting of his own blood in the air.
The hybrid shrieked and raked at him with the other hand, claws slicing through fur and skin. Dominic’s world narrowed to the rhythm of attack and counterattack, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. The creature’s strength was monstrous, but its movements were uncoordinated—savage, uncontrolled.
That’s what made them weak. The only thing. Their mindless rage.
He twisted, shoving it off-balance, driving his claws into its chest. The hybrid howled and bucked, flinging him backward into the snow. He hit hard, rolled, and came up on his paws just as Theodore’s lithe form burst into the clearing.
The wolf didn’t hesitate. He went straight for the hybrid’s flank, teeth flashing in the half-light. His snarl was higher-pitched, less practiced, but it distracted the creature long enough for Dominic to surge forward again.
He clamped his jaws around its neck, pulling with every ounce of strength he had. The hybrid thrashed, kicking up blood and snow. Theodore’s teeth found its leg, and for a moment, they had it pinned between them, predator precision against corrupted strength.
Then a blur of shadow joined the chaos.
Julian.
He came from the tree line in a silent arc of motion, his claws catching the hybrid’s wrist and twisting.
The sound of bone snapping cracked through the night.
The creature screamed, turning on him with unnatural speed, but Julian was already gone, darting sideways, cutting across the clearing in tight, efficient strikes.
Together, they began to drive it back.
Dominic ducked beneath another swing and raked his claws down its torso, the black hide parting like wet parchment. Steam rose from the wound, hot and metallic. The hybrid’s blood hit the snow and hissed.
The creature lunged again, wilder now, striking at anything that moved. Theodore went low, snapping at its knee. Julian feinted left, then slammed into its side with bone-crushing force. The hybrid staggered, bellowing in fury, and Dominic saw his opening.
He leapt.
His body collided with it mid-roar, teeth finding the soft place beneath its jaw. He bit down hard, feeling the crunch of cartilage and the hot rush of blood. The hybrid’s claws tore at him, once, twice, but he held on, pushing the thing backward, driving it into the rocks.
Its movements began to falter.
Dominic didn’t let up. He pressed forward, all instinct and fury, forcing it down inch by inch. The air was filled with the sound of snarling, of impact, of snow turning red beneath their feet.
He could hear Theodore panting nearby, Julian’s claws tearing into the creature’s arm, but his own focus had tunneled to the rhythm of its heartbeat under his teeth. Fast. Slowing. Fading.
The hybrid spasmed, shuddered, and threw its head back with a sound that wasn’t quite a roar. Something closer to a laugh, raw and broken.
Then it went limp.
Dominic released it and stepped back, chest heaving, fur matted with blood. The air was thick with the stench of blood. Steam rose from the hybrid’s body where it touched the snow, black veins spiderwebbing out from its wounds.
For a moment, none of them moved.
Julian stood to his left, chest heaving, eyes sharp and unreadable. Theodore limped a few feet away, one paw lifted, an ear torn and bleeding.
Dominic’s ribs burned where the claws had struck him. He could feel blood trickling down his flank, hot against the cold. But it didn’t matter. The hybrid wasn’t moving.
The world around them was suddenly too quiet. No wind, no rain, only the echo of their ragged breathing.
He turned his head slowly, scanning the clearing for movement. Nothing. Only snow, broken branches, and blood-streaked rock.
Then, a sound.
Soft. Human.
He froze.
Layla.
She was still there, a few yards away, half-hidden by a fallen tree. She was on her knees, hands pressed to the ground, her face pale under the moonlight. Her knife lay abandoned beside her, its blade glinting faintly.
Her eyes were wide and unfocused, locked on the monster’s body. She looked as though she couldn’t quite believe it was over, that she was expecting it to attack again.
Dominic’s heart lurched.
He took one step toward her, then another, each movement deliberate. The snow crunched beneath his paws.
Theodore circled the corpse, teeth glinting, “Is it dead?” he rasped.
Julian didn’t answer. His wolf form stilled beside the corpse, eyes fixed on it as though waiting for it to rise again.