Chapter 32
CADE
The moment I break from formation, everything narrows to one objective. Intercept.
The canyon fight doesn’t stop behind me—I can still hear it, feel it in the ground—but it becomes background noise the farther I push through the trees. Branches snap under the force of something large moving fast ahead of me.
Too fast. It’s not hunting randomly. It has a direction.
“Eliza,” I growl under my breath.
The bond pulses sharp and urgent in my chest, not words, not thoughts, but a pull I can’t ignore. It tugs me forward, tightening with every step, confirming what I already know. It found her. Or it’s about to. Behind me, I hear Nolan crash through the brush.
“You’re breaking the line!” he calls.
“I know!”
“You want backup or not?”
“Yes,” I snap. “But don’t lose the perimeter. Gideon holds the choke point.”
“Got it.”
His pace adjusts, staying just behind and to my right, not overtaking, not interfering.
He knows better than to get in front of me when I’m tracking like this.
Another sound rips through the forest ahead.
Closer now. A deep, guttural snarl followed by the splintering crack of wood giving way under impact.
“It’s moving uphill,” Nolan says.
“Toward the ridge,” I reply.
Toward her. We push harder.
The first hybrids hit us before we reach the upper trail. They don’t come in a coordinated wave like before. They’re scattered. Agitated. Drawn by the same direction we are, but without the same control.
“Cut through,” I order.
No hesitation. We don’t stop to engage fully. We don’t hold ground. We eliminate what blocks our path.
The first one lunges low—I pivot, catching it mid-motion and driving it into the dirt hard enough to break its momentum before ending it in a single, decisive movement.
To my right, Nolan takes down another, his strikes efficient, controlled, wasting nothing.
“They’re not guarding,” he says.
“They’re trailing,” I reply.
Following. Like everything is being pulled toward the same point.
“Then we’re close,” he mutters.
Too close.
We break through the last of the brush and hit the incline leading toward the upper canyon ridge.
And that’s when I see it. A massive shape moving through the trees ahead.
Not hidden. Not subtle. The Prime Hybrid doesn’t need to be.
It tears through the forest like it owns it, each step carving a path through anything in its way.
Its head lifts slightly. Scenting. Tracking.
“Eliza,” I breathe.
The name isn’t a call. It’s a warning. The creature shifts direction suddenly. Not away.
Not randomly. Toward the ridge path. Toward where she would be if— No. Not if. She is.
“She’s there,” Nolan says, reading it the same way I am.
“Yes.”
The hybrid accelerates. I feel something close to anger spike through my control. Not fear. Not uncertainty. Rage. Cold. Focused. Absolute.
“No,” I say under my breath.
It doesn’t get there first. It doesn’t reach her. Not while I’m still breathing. I shift fully.
The world snaps sharper, faster, stronger as my wolf takes over, muscles surging with power that burns through every step I take.
The distance closes faster now. Ground disappears beneath me in long, powerful strides.
The Prime Hybrid hears it. It turns. Just enough. Just long enough for its eyes to meet mine.
There’s intelligence there. Recognition. And something else. Calculation. Then it keeps moving.
Toward her. That’s enough. I push harder.
We hit the ridge seconds later. And she’s there. Standing just beyond the tree line, breath uneven but steady, her gaze locked on the thing coming straight for her.
“Eliza!” I roar.
Her head snaps toward me. Relief flashes across her face for half a second— Then disappears as the Prime Hybrid closes the last stretch of distance between them. She doesn’t run.
She moves. Sideways. Deliberate. Guiding it. My mind catches up to what she’s doing a split second later.
“She’s leading it,” Nolan says.
“Yes.”
Toward the canyon. Toward the trap. It’s reckless.
It’s dangerous. It’s exactly what we needed.
But she’s too close. Far too close. The Prime Hybrid lunges.
I intercept. The impact is immediate and brutal.
Force slams into me like a collapsing wall, driving me back several feet before my footing catches.
It’s stronger than anything I’ve faced. Not just in size. In density. In control. It recovers fast—too fast—twisting back toward Eliza without fully committing to me.
“No, you don’t,” I snarl, driving forward again.
This time, I hit it with everything I have. Claws. Teeth. Momentum. The collision redirects it just enough to break its line toward her.
“Eliza, move!” I bark.
She doesn’t hesitate this time. She runs. Not away. Not blindly. Toward the canyon path.
Good. That’s where we need it. The Prime Hybrid snarls, low and violent, its attention snapping back to me as I block its path again. It tests me. Pushes. Probes for weakness. I don’t give it one.
Behind me, Nolan closes in, shifting fully as he joins the fight, circling to keep it from slipping past us again.
“It’s not engaging fully,” he says.
“I know.”
It’s still trying to reach her. Still prioritizing that over the fight in front of it. Which means— We use it.
“Drive it forward,” I say.
“Toward the canyon.”
Nolan nods once. We shift positions, not attacking blindly, but guiding. Redirecting.
Forcing it step by step into the path we want. It resists. Hard. Every movement is a fight. Every inch gained is contested. But slowly— Relentlessly— It gives ground. The canyon edge looms ahead. The narrow path. The choke point. Exactly where we need it.
The Prime Hybrid realizes it too late. Or maybe it realizes and doesn’t care. Because it lunges again— Not at me. Not at Nolan. Past us. Toward the direction Eliza disappeared into the canyon. I move without thinking. Intercept again.
This time, the impact drives me to one knee before I force myself back up, muscles screaming under the strain. It’s too strong. Too fast. Too focused. But it’s not getting past. Not again.
“Now!” Nolan shouts.
We push together. One coordinated surge. Forcing it back. Driving it into the narrowest stretch of the canyon path. It stumbles. Just slightly. Just enough. And that’s all we need. Because now— It’s exactly where we want it. And there’s nowhere left for it to go but forward.
Into the trap. Into the fight it won’t walk away from.
I bare my teeth, my gaze locking onto it with everything I have left to give.
The Prime Hybrid doesn’t retreat. It recalculates.
I see it in the shift of its weight, the slight angle of its head as it studies us—me, Nolan, the narrowing canyon behind it.
There’s no panic in it. No instinctive fear. Just cold, deliberate assessment.
“It’s thinking,” Nolan taps the side of his head as if attempting to jar something loose.
“I know.”
And that makes it more dangerous than anything we’ve faced so far.
It lunges again—but not at full force. A feint.
I pivot, bracing for impact that doesn’t come.
Instead, it twists mid-motion, slamming into the canyon wall hard enough to send fragments of stone breaking loose and scattering across the ground.
The debris forces us to adjust our footing, just enough for it to try and break past again.
“No!” I snap, driving into its flank.
This time, the impact holds. For a second. Then it turns on me fully. The hit comes fast.
Brutal. Its weight crashes into my side, sending me skidding across the uneven ground before I dig in, claws tearing into dirt and stone to stop the slide. Pain flares along my ribs, sharp and immediate, but I shove it down.
Irrelevant. Later. If there is a later.
“It’s targeting you now!” Nolan calls.
Good.
“Keep it that way!” I answer.
If its focus stays on me, it’s not chasing Eliza. That’s the only advantage that matters. The Prime Hybrid circles, its movements tighter now, more contained by the canyon walls. Its size works against it here—less room to maneuver, less space to build momentum. Exactly what we needed.
“Drive left!” I call.
Nolan shifts position instantly, cutting off the wider escape route. The creature snaps toward him, testing the opening, but I don’t give it the chance. I hit it again. Harder.
Claws rake across reinforced muscle that feels wrong under contact—too dense, too resistant. It barely slows it, but it’s enough to redirect. Enough to keep it where we want it. A low, guttural sound rips from its throat, something closer to frustration than pain. Good.
Let it feel that. Let it realize it’s not in control anymore.
It surges forward again, this time committing fully.
We meet it head-on. The impact drives all three of us back a step, the force cracking stone beneath our feet.
Nolan recovers first, slamming into its side to keep it from regaining balance completely.
“Now!” he shouts.
I don’t hesitate. Everything I have goes into the next strike. Power. Weight. Momentum.
I drive it back another step. Then another. The canyon narrows further behind it, the walls closing in just enough to limit any real attempt at escape. It realizes it.
I see it in the way its head lifts slightly again, nostrils flaring as it searches for another path. There isn’t one. Not anymore.
“You’re done,” I growl under my breath.
It doesn’t understand the words. But it understands the tone. The intent. The finality.
It roars again, louder this time, the sound echoing violently off the canyon walls—but there’s something different in it now. Not dominance. Not command. Something closer to defiance.
Like it knows what’s coming. Like it refuses to accept it.
“Keep pushing!” I call.
Nolan doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. We move together again, forcing it deeper into the choke point, step by step, until there’s nowhere left for it to go but straight ahead.
Into the center. Into the trap. And somewhere ahead— I feel her. Not close enough to see.
Not yet. But there. Waiting. Ready.
Everything tightens. Aligns. This is it. No more repositioning. No more strategy. Just the end. I shift my stance slightly, grounding myself for what comes next, every muscle coiled and ready. The Prime Hybrid hesitates.
But it’s enough. Because now it knows. This isn’t a hunt anymore. It’s a fight it can’t win.
“Let’s end this,” I growl.