Chapter 9 - Freya #2
His wolf, usually so controlled, howled with fierce joy as if ready to run at my side, even pinned as he was by Dryden’s magic. “Your instincts will never lead you astray, my love.”
Zak’s awe and pride blazed through our connection like sunrise breaking through clouds. I felt his teacher’s heart swell as he watched me wield the power he’d patiently helped me understand — my clumsy first attempts at wards now transformed into magical mastery.
“You’re magnificent,” his thoughts whispered through our bond.
Beneath his wonder ran a current of fierce satisfaction at seeing the man who’d held so much power over Heath about to face justice.
Gage’s alpha pride roared through our mate bond like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me in its intensity. As a leader, he appreciated the brilliance of my deception, but it was the possessive heat that followed that made my skin flush.
“My mates,” his wolf growled with savage delight. “Mine.”
Tor’s wonder pulsed across the distance, his ancient Odinswolf soul recognizing power that surpassed even his own.
His voice reverent and awed, he spoke to me from a great distance, “You shine brighter than the stars that named you ours.”
And Rowan’s primal joy sang through the link like a hunting song — prey finally caught. Even from his dangerous position in Denraider territory, I felt his feral satisfaction.
“Tear him apart, little warrior,” his wild voice urged.
“With your help,” I answered them all.
With the power of seven wolves, I rose from my submissive crouch. Lightning crackled along my white fur one last time as I shifted back to human form. Power coursed through me like liquid fire, making the air around me shimmer with heat, melting the snow in a circle around us.
Dryden’s eyes widened as he finally understood what was happening. “What?” he breathed. “You submitted—”
“I’m an Odinswolf,” I said, my voice carrying across the battlefield. “We submit to no one.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Thatcher and Lee freeze in their tracks.
They’d been fighting their way toward us, but now they stood transfixed, their wolves sensing a power beyond anything they’d witnessed before.
Thatcher’s wolf tilted his head, not baring his throat in submission but acknowledging the ancient and terrible power unfolding within me.
“Take her down!” Aliza roared.
The three witches who’d struck down Heath unleashed a barrage at me, but with my power joined with my own coven, and backed by the strength of my mates, I quickly raised a shield they couldn’t penetrate.
This time, the target of my wrath didn’t stand outside the shield, but inside — with me.
“Time for you to face the music, Dryden,” I growled.
Tendrils of our collective magic lashed out, sinking into him like spikes. The combined power of my Bonded helped me search through his body, cleaving into every part of his oily essence. Dryden’s face went white with terror as he felt me take hold of something fundamental inside him.
“Please,” he gasped, all his bravado evaporating. “Not my wolf—”
“But you would sacrifice everyone else’s.” My mental fingers closed around his shifting magic, gathering it together in preparation for what came next. “You hurt my mate. You tortured my packmates. You allied with witches who maim shifters for sport. Tell me why.”
His body frozen with pain, Dryden struggled to speak. “The balance of power is shifting… toward the covens.”
“So instead of protecting your people, you chose to sacrifice us for your own power.” I shook my head. “Wrong answer.”
With one savage mental twist, I ripped his wolf from him.
The sound Dryden made wasn’t quite a scream. It was more of a desperate, primal keen. The last, dying howl he’d ever make as he mourned the loss of half his soul. His back contorted into an impossible arch as silvery light poured from his mouth, his eyes, the very pores of his skin.
The wolf essence I’d pulled free took form momentarily above him for all to see. A massive silver beast with intelligent eyes looked down at me with what seemed like gratitude before dissolving into particles of light.
Every shifter present felt it. Those in wolf form whimpered and got to their paws as his magical dominance over them faded. A few in human form flinched, hands going instinctively to their chests as if to protect their own wolves. Some turned away, unable to witness such an intimate violation.
Dryden collapsed face-first onto the frozen ground, his expensive suit suddenly hanging loose on a frame that seemed to have physically shrunk. Even his scent changed. His dominant alpha musk faded into pronounced notes of fear-sweat and despair.
He was just a man now. A broken, ordinary human with no magic, no shifting ability, no dominance, no power at all. Just a politician without his most valuable currency.
The witches around him stumbled backward, their carefully laid plans crumbling as they realized their alpha ally was no longer an alpha at all.
“Grab him, he’s still useful to us,” Aliza demanded, and the two witches at her side pulled a weeping Dryden to his feet.
I hadn’t killed him… I’d done exactly what those evil witches had done to Frost Fang. I’d stripped him of his wolf, of his alpha power, of his very shifter essence.
Did that make me as evil as them?
I stood in the center of the battlefield just south of Moonblessed, power still crackling around me like a storm given form. Every shifter present — ally and enemy alike — stared at me with a mixture of awe, respect, and fear.
“Retreat!” Aliza ordered. “Fall back!”
As the shifters around me regained their ability to move, nobody tried to stop the witches as they made their retreat. Everyone still seemed to be in shock.
I searched the faces around me. I’d just demonstrated power that most shifters would consider nightmarish — the ability to take what made them whole.
Would I ever truly belong anywhere after this? Or would I always be a weapon everyone respected but no one quite trusted? Was this the reason my kind had been hunted nearly to extinction?
Closest to me now, Thatcher shifted back to human form, his expression grim. The distance between us seemed to stretch, widening with every second of stillness.
Then the alpha straightened, his voice carrying across the now-silent battlefield. “Ironwood stands with the Odinswolf.”
Behind him, the Ironwood fighters formed a protective line. Lee signaled to several of his betas, who immediately fanned out toward the tree line.
“Making sure they’re actually retreating,” he explained, “not just regrouping for another strike.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful for their quick thinking, and for taking the weight of my former packmates’ eyes off of me as they moved away in search of the enemy.
“Did she just—” Dean whispered to Varden, unable to finish the sentence.
“Stripped his wolf right out of him,” Varden confirmed, his voice caught between horror and admiration.
With a sudden stab of Heath’s pain coming through the mate bond, I lunged toward him, kneeling beside his wolf to assess his injuries. The scent of burnt fur wafted from him, making me wish I’d killed Dryden after all.
A complex storm of emotions met me through our mate bond — vindication and relief tangled with grief. Not for the father who had used him, but for the father he’d never had.
His mental voice, when it finally came through our bond, was rough with emotion.
“You did what I couldn’t,” he acknowledged. “You stopped him without killing him.”
The gratitude that followed warmed me from within.
“Zak,” I called, “Help me heal him.”
Despite all the power coursing through me, I wasn’t sure I could channel it properly into healing right now. Especially not something as delicate as broken bones and witchfire burns.
Flint reached us first, his human form materializing beside me as he shifted back. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around me, his touch anchoring me as the remaining power crackled along my skin.
Standing in stunned silence, some wolves from Frost Fang, Ironwood, and the Bloody Dawn instinctively took a step back at the sight of my magic.
Others leaned forward, drawn to the power like moths to flame.
Unlike those now looking at me with alarm or awe, Flint’s eyes held the same devotion they always had.
“I knew you had it in you,” he murmured against my hair, his voice carrying both pride and the unspoken promise that no matter how powerful I became, I would always have a home in his heart.
His littermate Fern looked at me with newfound respect. I couldn’t help but brace myself when she opened her mouth, too accustomed to her accusations, but all she said was, “Your mates chose well,” just loud enough for me to hear.
From the city walls burst a group of wolves, Gage in the lead as they charged down the hill toward us, but the sound of boots on frozen ground had me turning from the sight.
Artemis approached, her rifle still smoking from shots she’d taken after their sudden arrival.
She clapped me on the shoulder like we were old friends.
“Hell yeah,” she said, her voice carrying genuine respect without a trace of fear.
She gestured to the Bloody Dawn wolves, who were already forming a defensive perimeter around me and my mates as the Frost Fang wolves around us shook off their stupor and got to their paws.
“My pack and I have your back,” Artemis said.
Her easy acceptance — treating me as a fellow leader rather than some mystical being — steadied me. She positioned herself between me and the fleeing witches, covering my back without being asked.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
As Gage made his way to the rest of us at last, I watched through his eyes. Every shifter he passed wore expressions ranging from amazed to awed to uncertain, but underneath it all was a new understanding.
They’d seen the true power an Odinswolf could wield.