Chapter 28 Darius
DARIUS
The forest is too quiet.
It’s not the natural quiet of night, when the wind sighs through the pines and the snow muffles the sound of distant streams. It’s the sharp, empty quiet that settles in before violence, the way the air in a room shifts before a fight starts. It smells different, too.
Flat. Sterile. The scents that should be here—hare, fox, damp moss under frozen soil—are faded, replaced by something faint and wrong, like old blood under fresh frost.
I follow the northern line of the perimeter, slow, deliberate, letting my boots sink into the snow with a crunch that feels too loud.
The wards Mary set are steady in the air, humming low like the pulse of the land itself, but something’s brushing against them now, light and deliberate, as if to see how close it can get before they burn.
The scents sharpen a breath later. Wolf, male, three of them at least. One lynx. And something else… something I don’t know. It’s sharp in the nose, resinous, like pine sap scorched in fire, but under it there’s a strange, metallic tang that makes my jaw tighten.
They’re here.
I step off the trail, moving toward the dark stretch of trees where the scent’s thickest, and I’m no more than five strides in when the first shadow breaks.
He’s young, built lean, charging low with his head down like brute speed will win him something.
I sidestep at the last moment, catching him by the collar and the back of the neck, using his own momentum to throw him forward into the snow.
He hits face-first, stunned, and I leave him there.
The second one’s smarter, keeping to the trees, using the trunks for cover.
His scent hits stronger: lynx shifter, older, careful.
I see his eyes just before he leaps, claws out, aiming for my side.
I step into him instead of away, one arm locking around his neck, the other gripping his wrist, and spin, driving his spine into the trunk of a pine.
The impact sends a thick branch groaning and cracking, dumping its load of snow down over both of us.
He hits the ground under the weight, hissing, and I move on.
A whisper of snow behind me is the only warning before a third is on me, blade flashing silver in the moonlight.
Tessa’s voice cuts the air, sharp and urgent—“Darius, left!”—and I turn just in time to catch his wrist. The blade nicks the inside of my forearm, heat blooming under the cold, but I twist hard, forcing him to drop it.
The knife lands in the snow with a muffled thud.
I kick it away, stepping into him and driving my knee up into his gut.
He folds, and I shove him down into the snow.
The wolf in me is pushing now, pacing inside my skin, claws scratching against my bones, urging me to shed this human form and finish it the old way. But I force the breath into my lungs, the air cold and clean, pulling Tessa’s scent into me until the urge bends, not breaks.
A fourth shadow bursts from the tree line—taller, heavier—coming straight for me. But there’s another, lean and fast, who doesn’t aim for me at all. He’s moving for her.
Everything in me snaps into focus.
I’m already moving before the thought’s fully formed, closing the distance in three strides. My shoulder takes him in the ribs mid-sprint, and the sound is sharp and satisfying; the snap of bone under force.
He spins away, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him, and I follow him down, a fist in his coat, slamming him once, twice into the frozen earth. His head lolls, dazed, and I leave him to the snow.
The bigger one reaches me as I rise, a snarl curling his lips.
He comes in swinging, and I block the first hit with my forearm, the second with my palm, catching his wrist and twisting until he roars.
I drive my elbow into his jaw, but he’s still standing, still grinning through the blood in his teeth.
He feints right, comes left, and his fist connects with my ribs.
Pain flares hot, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of stepping back.
I shove him hard, catching the back of his neck and hauling him forward into my knee.
He stumbles, and I follow, boot sweeping his legs.
When he hits the ground, I plant a foot on his chest, pinning him.
“Where’s Roman?” I growl down at him, voice low enough to make it a promise.
He spits red into the snow. “Not here. With the other one. The human.”
Holden.
The name slams through me, but I keep my grip steady. “What’s he planning?”
His grin turns thin and cruel. “You’ll see.”
I could crush his throat for that, but it’s not worth the time. He’s just a scout, sent to measure, not to kill. I shove him back into the snow, turning as I catch the sound of more movement—two more wolves breaking from the shadows.
The first comes high, leaping for my shoulders.
I drop low, catching him midair and slamming him onto his back, driving my forearm into his collarbone until he goes limp.
The second is quicker, darting in with a short blade.
He slashes for my side, but I sidestep, catching his arm and spinning him toward a tree.
His face hits the bark, and he slides down, groaning.
I stand still then, chest heaving, scanning the treeline. No more shadows. No more scents. Just the soft hiss of snow drifting from the branches and the faint sound of someone running away through the dark.
Tessa’s at my back, close enough that her warmth is a pulse against the cold. I feel her hand on my arm, light but steady, and the wolf in me quiets the rest of the way.
“You didn’t change,” she says softly, like she’s tasting the words.
“No,” I answer, meeting her eyes. “Didn’t need to.”
Her gaze searches mine. “You were in control the whole time.”
I breathe out slow, letting the cold settle back into me. “The wolf obeys what matters most. Tonight, that’s you.”
The forest is still again, but it’s not the same stillness I walked into. This wasn’t meant to end me. This was Roman’s measure, his last test before whatever he’s planning next.
And I’m ready to return the message.