Chapter 2 #2
So how am I supposed to help him? I’m just a weak girl who can’t even take her Lycan form. Yes, I have magic. But it’s useless in a fight. It heals. That is all it does. Nothing powerful. Nothing like what that auction master bragged about.
Still, I can’t just stand here or run away. For some reason I don’t fully understand, he saved me. Now he’s getting beaten by three guards, and more could come at any second.
If I want to make it out of here alive, my gut tells me to follow him. He knows how to get into the dungeon, pretend to be a guard, and unlock the door without hesitation. If he knows how to get in, then he must already have a plan to get out. So, I have to help him.
A strained groan slips from my throat as I force my legs to move. Then I break into a run, heading straight back toward him.
“Yes, girl. That’s it. Let’s wreck them,” Mythril whoops, her voice bright with fierce pride.
I run until I’m close enough to see the fight clearly, but still far enough to stay out of reach. The chaos swirls in front of me, bodies colliding, snarls tearing through the night.
I stop in front of a thick, towering tree. I’ve never done a magic this big before, yet something inside me swells with every second, a quiet strength blooming where fear used to live. Confidence rises in my chest. I press myself against the tree, my arms wrapping around its rough trunk.
“For those who grow, there will be wilt.” I pour every thought, every fragment of will, into the tree beneath my hands. My fingers dig into the bark, nails biting deep as I press harder.
My energy sinks into the tree, threading through every cell, sliding down into its roots.
The ground trembles. Roots surge through the soil and burst upward near the Gamma’s feet, coiling around him like living snakes.
With every stretch of the roots, leaves fall from the branches above me.
One by one, until a storm of them spins through the air, swirling so thick it blurs my vision.
The Gamma screams as the roots tighten. His legs are trapped, one limb flushing red as the pressure cuts off his blood flow.
“What in hell is this?” the guard yells, panic breaking his voice. “Dark magic?”
His grip loosens. In that instant, the dark-haired man snaps his head back, slamming it into the warrior’s chin and face. The second guard groans, staggering, and the man does not hesitate. He strikes once more, clean and brutal, dropping him cold.
“Chicken,” the Gamma snarls, shifting into his wolf form. His slender legs tear free from the roots as he lands on all fours.
I force my energy forward again, trying to lengthen and tighten the roots, but exhaustion crashes into me all at once. The leaves are gone now. The branches above are dry and lifeless. My hands slip from the bark as my knees buckle.
“Goddess, that took everything,” Mythril pants, and I collapse too, sinking to the ground, too weak to hold myself upright.
My breathing comes hard and fast. Sweat slides down my temples as if I have been caught in a sudden downpour. Just when I think my body will not give me another breath, the dark-haired man shifts.
“Oh my Goddess…” I gasp.
He turns into a wolf, but not like the Gamma. He stays upright, balanced on two powerful legs. His body expands, growing several times over, muscle rolling beneath thick gray fur that spreads across tan skin. A tail extends from the base of his spine, heavy and strong.
He’s enormous and breathtaking. His eyes glow like a winter sky stretched wide with stars as he looks down at the Gamma, who suddenly seems too fragile to fight.
The Gamma hesitates, though his breath still burns with hunger for a fight. He lunges. He aims for the man’s hand, but the size difference seals his fate.
A massive gray arm catches him midair and hurls him into a tree with bone-rattling force. The Gamma scrambles up and charges again, only to be met with a slash of sharp claws that rip through his skin, carving deep into his stomach. He howls, collapsing to the forest floor, writhing in agony.
“Lycan!” one of the guards screams, bolting into the dark.
The gray creature turns toward me. His breathing is heavy. We stare at each other in silence, and somehow, despite everything, fear never comes.
“My hero,” Mythril sighs, dreamy and soft.
Footsteps thunder in the distance. More of them. The guard must have called for backup. Without a word, he strides to me, wraps an arm around my waist, and in one smooth motion, slings me over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Hey. Put me down,” I protest, pounding weakly at his back. He ignores me completely.
My face points toward the trail behind us as he tears through the forest. I clutch the thick fur at his back, gripping tight so I do not slip.
Shapes chase us in the distance, but he is faster, weaving through trees, leaping roots, carrying me as if I weigh nothing at all.
Before long, the sounds fade. The pursuers vanish.
“Where are we going?” I shout over the rush of wind. “Were you the one who got me out of that cell? Why did you save me?” He doesn’t answer.
The forest slopes downward, opening onto a long wooden dock. Several small boats and yachts bob gently at the edge of the water. He stops beside one of them and finally sets me down.
“C’mon. Get in,” he says, low and firm.
A gunshot cracks through the air. I flinch, clapping my hands over my ears, my knees locking as fear freezes me in place. The boat is only one step away, but my body refuses to move.
“It’s alright,” he says, calmer now. “You’re good. Let’s go.”
He guides me forward, an arm steady at my shoulders, a hand firm at my waist. I jump into the boat just as another shot echoes, the vessel rocking beneath my feet. He unties the rope and leaps in after me, the boat swaying violently as he starts the engine.
I curl into a corner while the motor roars to life. The boat lunges forward, slicing through the water.
“Alexa!” Alpha Alastair howls from the dock.
More shots ring out. I duck again, heart hammering, but the silver bullets miss us, splashing uselessly into the dark water in front of me.
His long howl cuts straight through me. There is pain in it, raw and unmistakable, and it tangles with the chaos already tearing through my chest. It hurts to be torn from a fated mate, no matter what he is. Kind or cruel, protector or monster, the bond doesn’t let go without leaving a wound.