Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Dean
It had taken well into the night before we could leave the battlefield.
There were injured who needed to be helped, wounds that needed binding, bones that needed setting.
And then there were the dead. So many dead.
When the pyres were finally lit, their flames reaching toward the darkened sky, no one wanted to linger.
It should have been a time to remember the people we’d lost, to stand vigil, to grieve properly.
But everyone was too scared the flames would draw unwanted attention.
So we’d honoured the dead with one eye on the horizon, waiting for an attack that never came, rushing through rites that deserved more time than we could give them.
We reached the camp we’d stayed at the night before just as the last light bled from the sky.
The children were already huddled together asleep near the remnants of our fire pit, small bodies curled against each other for warmth and comfort.
And Damon was sitting on a rock nearby, watching over them.
It should have comforted me.
Damon had done the same thing for me countless nights when we were kids.
I remember those first few days with them like it was yesterday, when I’d first turned up on his and Maddox’s doorstep.
A feral, angry kid, so broken I didn’t know how to be anything else.
I couldn’t sleep unless Damon was there.
He’d sit up for hours, just being present, just being steady, until I finally believed I was safe enough to close my eyes.
He never complained. Never made me feel weak for needing it. He just... was there.
But looking at him now, sitting in that same watchful pose, I couldn’t tell if it was Damon or the nightmare staring back at me.
And while I was still reeling from everything that had happened on the battlefield, if he opened his mouth and that thing’s voice came out instead of my brother’s, I didn’t know what I’d do to him.
I didn’t think I could hold back anymore.
We didn’t have enough supplies to feed everyone, let alone give them blankets to sleep comfortably.
There’d been nothing to salvage from Arik’s camp.
What little there had been had gone up in flames during the fight.
It was probably torched by one of his Endless when he realised they weren’t going to win.
I could picture it perfectly. Arik giving the order with that cold smile of his, watching supplies burn while people who needed them stood helpless.
He was spiteful enough to do that. Evil enough to enjoy it.
Most people were so exhausted they just passed out wherever they stopped.
They didn’t bother looking for shelter or soft ground.
No one seemed to care about everyday comforts anymore.
They just dropped where their legs gave out and let unconsciousness take them.
By the time an uneasy silence settled over the camp, the five of us were huddled around a small fire, all of us staring into the flames.
No one spoke. There was nothing to say. We were all just trying to process what we’d done, what we’d lost, what came next.
My wolf stirred in the back of my mind, pressing against my consciousness with something that felt almost like reassurance.
Protected the pack. That’s what matters.
Rhidian died, I reminded him.
The wolf’s response was immediate, dismissive. Not pack. Not ours to protect.
The callousness of it pissed me off. How could he just write off a man’s death like that? A man who’d fought beside us, who’d loved Alyssa, who’d given everything…
He was doing what an alpha does, my wolf continued, unperturbed by my anger. Protecting what was his. Fighting for what was right. There is no shame in dying when you’re fighting for the lives of people you care about. This was his path. There was nothing we could have done to change it.
The wolf practically shrugged in my mind, utterly at peace with the brutality of it. To him, it really was that simple. Rhidian had been an alpha in his own right. He’d made his choices. He’d died fighting for something that mattered.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
Even if there was a part of me, a shameful, selfish part I didn’t want to acknowledge, that was relieved.
If someone had to die out there, at least it wasn’t one of my brothers.
At least it wasn’t Alyssa. I wouldn’t have survived the loss of any of them.
The mere thought of it made something in my chest seize up, made the wolf howl with preemptive grief.
Then I looked at Alyssa across the fire and saw all her pain written across her face.
In the tight line of her mouth, the shadows under her eyes, the way she held herself like she might shatter if she moved too quickly.
The guilt hit me like a fist to the chest. Because losing Rhidian was hurting her.
He’d loved her, and she’d cared for him even if it wasn’t in the way he had wanted, but now he was gone.
And here I was, secretly grateful it hadn’t been someone I loved more.
What kind of person did that make me?
I tore my gaze away before she could catch me looking and started assessing the others instead. It was easier than sitting with my own thoughts. Easier than examining the ugliness I’d found inside myself.
Surprisingly, Tank was the one I was most worried about.
He just seemed... fine. Steady as always, his massive frame relaxed, his expression calm.
Like nothing had happened. But he couldn’t possibly be fine.
None of us were. I knew Tank. I knew how deeply he felt things, even if he rarely showed it.
All that steadiness, all that calm, it was a dam holding back a flood.
And I was worried that keeping it all inside, being strong for everyone else, was going to mean Tank crashed later. Hard.
The last thing we needed was an unstable bear. Tank’s beast was a berserker and even at the best of times it was barely contained beneath that placid exterior. If Tank lost control of it now, with all these traumatised people around...
But more than the tactical concern, I just didn’t want him to have to go through any of that. Not alone. Not when we could help carry the weight if he’d just let us.
Maddox seemed to be pulling himself back together, at least on the surface.
His shoulders had lost some of their defeated slump, and his breathing had steadied.
But I knew the guilt of taking Rhidian’s life would follow him for the rest of his days.
Every time he closed his eyes, he’d see the blood on his hands.
Every time he used that Summer Court magic, he’d remember how he got it.
Part of me hated Rhidian for doing that to him. For putting that burden on my brother’s shoulders. For making Maddox carry the weight of his death forever.
But then I also knew it had been the right call.
The only call. An impossible answer to the cruel position we’d all been put in.
Rhidian couldn’t let Arik claim the Summer Court through his death.
He couldn’t let that monster gain more power from his final breath.
And if I was being honest with myself, really honest, I’d probably have asked Maddox to do the same thing for me if our positions were reversed.
So maybe I wasn’t any better than Rhidian after all.
As I watched, Maddox turned his arm over in the firelight, staring at the new marks that wound across his skin.
The Summer Court magic had branded him with intricate patterns, golden and shimmering, almost alive in the way they caught the light.
He traced them with his other hand, his expression distant.
My gaze moved to Tank, and I could see similar marks peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve. He’d been claimed by the Spring Court magic that had claimed him. Two of my brothers, marked by two of the courts. It was too much of a coincidence to be true. There had to be something else at play here.
A thought started forming in the back of my mind. Something that had been nagging at me since we’d arrived in this realm, since we’d discovered we had magic that shouldn’t exist.
“Alyssa,” I said, breaking the heavy silence. “Are there shifters in Nymeria?”
She looked up, surprised by the question.
For a moment, the grief in her eyes was replaced by confusion.
“Some,” she said slowly. “But the majority of shifters are in the human realm. The only ones here are the ones who’ve crossed over, and that’s not an easy thing to do.
” She tilted her head, studying me with those dark eyes that always seemed to see too much. “Why do you ask?”
“The ones that are here, do they have magic? Like we do?”
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Her brow furrowed as she considered it.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I’ve never met a shifter who was born in Nymeria.
And the ones who crossed over...” She shook her head.
“I never thought to ask about their magic.” A shadow passed over her face, and her voice cooled.
“Fizzle would probably be the best person to ask about that.”
Just the mention of his name made her expression go hard. Her jaw tightened, her eyes went flat, and I could practically see the walls going up around her. Another thing we needed to deal with. Another crack in the foundation that was supposed to be holding us all together.
My wolf surged forward at the change in her demeanour, hackles raised, a growl building in his chest. Kill the cat-bird. He lied to our mate. Manipulated her. Insulted her with his secrets. Death is all he deserves.
There’s been enough killing for now, I told him firmly. We need him alive. We need the truth from him.
The wolf practically pouted, radiating disapproval through our bond. The cat-bird wouldn’t know the truth if it was already chewing on his behind.
Then he slunk away to the back of my mind, sulking.