Chapter 2 - Zak #2
When he broke the kiss, I was left reeling, and my stomach nearly curdled when I noticed Gage staring at us both, a curious expression on his face and hunger in his eyes.
I’d once sworn not to come between them…
but before I could try to sort through all the confusing mix of emotions in the Bonded link, Freya’s laugh startled me.
Gage blinked, still holding her in his arms, then rumbled out a gruff, “We better go.”
Freya grinned, and Heath gave her a wink. His confidence astounded me. He didn’t rush forward to kiss either of his mates, almost as though he were giving them a message of his own: We will be victorious.
This was why I had to survive the coming battle.
Not just for revenge against the witches who’d tortured Heath, or to protect the wolves who’d found refuge with us.
I had to survive for this — for the pack built from broken pieces, for the love that burned between us like wildfire, for the chance to be claimed and cherished by all of them.
And for Rowan, wherever he was, fighting his own battles in enemy territory. Once we handled these witches, then we could focus on bringing him back. By then, perhaps Torsten would have finally made his way to us. Only then would our circle finally be complete.
Thinking of the mysterious Odinswolf gave me a twinge of nervousness, making me wonder if that’s what the others had felt when I arrived, wondering how I would change their dynamic.
Misinterpreting the nervousness I’d let slip, Freya grabbed my hand. “We’re in this together.”
I nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The moment of intimacy shattered as Gage’s command rippled through the group. “Move out.”
The rock-solid confidence in his tone steadied me. He didn’t offer any hollow assurances or placation. His trust in our capabilities spoke volumes.
We left the skeletal remains of the pack house behind, pushing deeper into what had once been the heart of Frost Fang territory. Ravens wheeled overhead, leading us away from the obvious ruins toward a cluster of abandoned buildings.
We advanced, our footsteps muffled by a thin layer of snow that covered everything. The air itself felt charged, crackling with residual magic. My wolf’s hackles rose as we drew closer, every instinct screaming.
Above us, three of Torsten’s ravens wheeled in tight circles before diving between the buildings. My pulse quickened — the birds had found their quarry. Dryden and his witch allies were here.
“Stay close,” Gage murmured, his voice already rougher as his wolf pressed against his control.
Tearing his shirt over his head to reveal his jacked torso, he smirked over at me before dropping his pants.
In moments, a massive gray and white wolf took his place.
He was enormous, easily the largest wolf I’d ever seen aside from Rowan.
Gage’s coat gleamed like metal in the pale winter light.
Power radiated from every line of his frame — the unmistakable presence of an alpha who’d never known defeat.
Flint followed suit, his darker coat contrasting Gage’s.
Where Gage was all raw dominance and barely contained violence, Flint moved with the fluid grace of a born hunter, and the moonmark on his forehead added to his air of mystery.
His large brown wolf was leaner than Gage’s but no less deadly, built for endurance and cunning rather than brute force.
The two of them together were a sight to behold — perfect complements, alphas who’d learned to hunt as one.
Heath remained in human form for now, but I could see his wolf in the predatory way he moved, and the way gold ringed his caramel eyes as he scanned the terrain for threats.
Freya stayed human as well, blue sparks already dancing along her fingertips as if she could barely contain her magic.
My own wolf clawed at my control, desperate to join the hunt, but I forced myself to remain in human form. My magic would be more useful than my fangs in the opening moments, and I wanted to coordinate with Brielle, who didn’t share the pack bond.
The abandoned administrative complex loomed ahead of us, its windows dark and empty. But the air itself felt wrong — thick with the metallic taste of magic and something that made my wolf’s hackles rise.
The witches were here, waiting for us in the shadows.
When I felt probing magic meet mine, I murmured to Brielle while also projecting the words through our Bonded link, “They know we’re here. We’ve lost the element of surprise.”
“That’ll make it a fair fight,” Heath said quietly as he pulled a gun from his sling bag. Then his voice boomed out, “We won’t bother telling you to surrender. But there’s nowhere for you to run.”
The first wave of witches emerged, their hands already weaving patterns in the air. Raw magic crackled between their fingers — no curse stones this time, just the coordinated sorcery that made a coven so dangerous in close combat.
“Shield the others!” I shouted to Brielle and Freya, throwing up a barrier of crackling energy before a bolt of witchfire could reach Bretton.
We moved as one, the three hybrids behind the wolves in a protective triangle, each of us adding shields around our packmates and allies.
Brielle’s magic had a different flavor than mine — more instinctive and primal — but it complemented my own more disciplined power as we deflected curse after curse.
Freya’s shields of lightning were something else entirely, intense and filled with ancient magic that wasn’t entirely from her mage side.
And yet all three of our spells entangled seamlessly, as though our magic had been made to combine.
Gage howled, and our allies closed in, tightening the noose around the witches’ necks. Frost Fang wolves poured over the ground, thirsty for their revenge. Blood sprayed as a small, moonmarked wolf jumped onto a fallen witch, ending her life with a vicious bite to her throat.
I lashed out with my magic, tangling with a witch’s fire spell and turning it back on its caster.
The man’s robes caught flame, his agonized shrieks echoing off the ruined walls as he stumbled backward.
I felt a vicious satisfaction at his pain — these monsters had tried to break Heath, had succeeded in cutting him off from his wolf.
But where was Dryden? Torsten’s ravens indicated he would be here.
The witches scattered before our assault, clearly not expecting such coordinated resistance. Gunshots punctuated snarls and growls. Two witches fell to Heath’s precise shots before they could finish their spells, while Gage and Flint tore through their ranks with brutal efficiency.
For a brief, shining moment, it seemed like we had the upper hand.
Then everything changed.
A shout split the air, and Magistra Aliza materialized at the edge of the battle. Her silver-streaked black hair whipped around her face as she raised her hands, dark magic pouring from her fingers in waves.
My wolf snarled inside me, remembering the taste of her blood, the satisfaction of making her scream.
She had severed Heath from his wolf, and fought against Freya and me.
The hand I’d bitten during our last battle had been completely healed.
Not even a scar remained where my fangs had torn into her flesh, forcing her to drop the curse stone.
She’d survived the battle.
Behind her came more witches I recognized from our last encounter, and I cursed under my breath. They’d been knocked unconscious from the magical backlash when Freya and I destroyed the cache of stones. We should have killed them when we had the chance.
Aliza’s voice cut across the battlefield like a blade. “Did you really think you could catch us off guard, little wolves?”
Her magic struck out in all directions, leaving a powdery residue wherever it touched.
I’d never seen anything like it — a spell designed to linger, to continue its effects long after the initial casting.
Dirty tactics from a witch who clearly had no honor left.
Two wolves went down, yelping in pain as the powder penetrated their coats.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heath flinch away, his face pale with something that looked suspiciously like fear.
My heart clenched with sympathy — having his wolf stolen, being cut off from everything that made him whole, had left scars that went deeper than the physical.
Had he avoided shifting because he wasn’t sure he could control his wolf?
In that moment of distraction, a slash of witchfire caught my cheek.
“They’re targeting the hybrids!” Brielle shouted, dodging a bolt of sickly green energy that would have taken her head off. “They want us out of the fight!”
She was right. The witches knew that as long as Freya, Brielle, and I could shield the others, their magic was largely useless. They were trying to separate us, to cut us off from the pack so they could pick off the wolves one by one.
“Fuck!” I threw myself sideways as another spell streaked past my ear, the air itself crackling in its wake.
Smoke and hexes began to separate our formation, creating confusion and chaos where there had been coordination.
Brielle found herself cut off from the main group, three witches closing in on her position.
I reached out with my magic, Freya doing the same, our combined power forming a shield around our fellow hybrid just as the witches struck.
But our distraction cost us. While we were focused on saving Brielle, the other witches turned their attention to the wolves who no longer had our protection.
I heard pained howls as curses found their marks, saw our allies stumble under the magical assault.
Bretton howled as a spell caught him across the ribs, making his wolf stumble.
What had been a rout in our favor became a grinding war of attrition, neither side gaining a decisive advantage as witches and wolves alike fell in the battle.