Draven's POV
The bear-man's blood tastes like victory and rage.
I tear into him with everything I have—claws, fangs, fury I didn't know I still possessed. My vision is tinged blue, my body thrumming with power that feels ancient and terrifying. The bear tries to fight back, but I'm faster, stronger, driven by something primal that roars one word over and over in my mind:
PROTECT HER.
The bear staggers back, bleeding from a dozen wounds. His friends are already retreating, dragging their injured. They didn't expect this. Didn't expect me to transform.
I didn't expect it either.
"You're insane!" the bear spits blood. "She's just a female! Not worth dying for!"
"GET OUT!" My voice doesn't sound like mine—it's deeper, resonating with alpha power I haven't felt since my pack died. "She's under MY protection. Touch her again and I'll rip out your throat."
The bear-man snarls but backs toward the entrance. "This isn't over, exile. That female doesn't belong here. She's not natural. Not right." He looks past me at Isla's hiding spot. "When word spreads that you're harboring an abomination, every clan will come for her. And you."
Then they're gone, limping into the purple twilight.
The power drains out of me like water through a sieve. I collapse to my knees, gasping, my body reverting to normal. The blue glow fades from my eyes. Everything hurts—ribs cracked from hitting the wall, cuts bleeding, muscles screaming.
Worth it.
"Draven!" Theron is at my side immediately, checking my wounds with practiced paws. "What was THAT? I've never seen you transform like that. Your eyes were—"
"I don't know." And I don't. That power came from somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I didn't know existed. "Is everyone alive?"
"Barely," Caspian groans from where he's sprawled on the ground. "No thanks to you deciding to play hero for a dying stranger."
"She's not dying." I force myself to stand, ignoring the way my vision swims. "Not on my watch."
Silas uncoils from around a boulder, bleeding from a gash on his side but alive. "They'll be back. With more. Magnus doesn't forgive insults, and you just humiliated him in front of his warriors."
"Let them come." I'm already moving toward Isla's hiding spot. "We'll be ready."
But when I round the boulder, I stop dead.
Isla is pressed into the corner, shaking so hard her teeth chatter. Her honey eyes are huge with terror, fixed on me. On my blood-soaked fur. My extended claws. The way I'm still breathing hard from the violence.
She thinks I'm a monster.
Maybe I am.
"Isla," I say softly, trying to make my voice gentle despite the growl that always underlies it. "Safe now. They gone."
She doesn't move. Doesn't even blink. She's frozen in pure terror.
I take a step closer, and she whimpers—a sound so broken it stops my heart.
"Draven, wait." Theron puts a paw on my shoulder. "You're covered in blood. You look like exactly what she's afraid of. Let me try."
He moves past me, slowly, carefully. His healer instincts know how to approach frightened creatures. He crouches several feet away from Isla and holds out his empty paws.
"Not hurt you," Theron says in his gentle rumble, using the few human words we've learned. "Help. Fix." He touches his own ribs, then points at hers.
Isla's eyes dart between us. She's calculating, trying to figure out if we're threats. Smart female.
Finally, she nods. Just once. Barely visible.
Theron moves closer inch by inch. When he reaches for her ribs, she flinches violently but doesn't pull away. Lets him examine her. I see the moment he confirms what I feared—multiple broken ribs, possible internal damage.
"Need leather strips," Theron calls over his shoulder. "And the healing salve. Silas, get me—"
Isla makes a sound. Not a scream, but a whimper of pain as Theron presses gently on her side. Tears stream down her face, but she bites her lip, trying not to cry out.
Something in my chest cracks open.
She's so brave. So impossibly brave. Broken and terrified and surrounded by creatures from her nightmares, but she's enduring. Surviving.
Just like I did when my pack died.
I watch Theron work, wrapping her torso in thin leather strips to stabilize the ribs. Every time he touches her, she flinches. Every time she flinches, that crack in my chest widens.
"Why does she fear us?" I ask quietly. "We saved her life."
"Maybe where she comes from, creatures like us are the enemy," Silas suggests. He's watching her with those analytical golden eyes. "Or maybe they don't exist at all. We could be the first beastmen she's ever seen."
The thought is staggering. A world without beastmen? What kind of strange place did this female come from?
Caspian limps over, nursing his wing. "She's going to be nothing but trouble. You realize that, right? Magnus will tell everyone about her. By tomorrow, every rival clan will know we have something unusual. They'll come to take her, kill her, or use her against us."
"Then we protect her." The words come out harder than I intend.
"Why?" Caspian demands. "Why risk everything for a stranger who can't even hunt, can't fight, can't contribute anything? Give me one good reason."
I don't have one. Not one that makes sense. Just a feeling in my gut that this female—this broken, terrified, impossible female—is important. That saving her matters in a way I can't explain.
"Because it's the right thing to do," I finally say.
Caspian snorts. "Since when do you care about right? You're the exile who let his whole pack starve to death because you were too proud to—"
I have him pinned against the wall before I realize I've moved. "Finish that sentence and lose your tongue."
"Draven." Theron's voice cuts through my rage. "Isla."
I release Caspian and turn. Isla is watching us with wide eyes, pressed back against the furs. She saw me attack Caspian. Saw my violence.
And now she's even more terrified.
"I'm sorry," I say uselessly in my language. "I didn't mean to—"
But she's already curling into herself, making her body as small as possible. Tears stream silently down her face. She's given up trying to understand us. Given up trying to communicate.
She thinks we're going to hurt her eventually. It's just a matter of time.
The guilt hits me like a physical blow. My sister looked at me like this once—after I failed to save our pack, after she realized I couldn't protect her from the starvation. That same betrayed terror before she died in my arms.
I can't fail again.
"Theron," I say quietly. "Make her comfortable. Give her food, water, whatever she needs. And..." I pause, hating what I'm about to say. "Stay away from her. All of you. She needs space."
"And you?" Silas asks.
"I'm going hunting. We need meat, and I need to think."
I shift to full wolf form and head for the entrance. But before I leave, I look back one more time.
Isla is watching me. Those honey eyes follow my movement, and I see something flicker across her face. Not just fear.
Confusion. Like she can't figure out why I'm leaving instead of hurting her.
Because you deserve better than monsters, I think. Even if I am one.
I'm halfway through the forest when I hear it—a howl in the distance. Then another. And another.
Not hunting calls. Warning calls.
The other packs know about Isla.
And they're coming.
I run faster, my wolf instincts screaming danger. I need to hunt, to provide, to prepare for what's coming.
But a new scent hits me on the wind, and I skid to a stop.
Blood. Fresh and human-smelling.
Isla's blood.
My heart stops. I left her in the cave. Protected. Safe with Theron.
Unless...
I race back toward the cave, terror clawing up my throat. The warning howls get louder, closer. I round the final bend and see—
The cave entrance is empty. No guards. No Theron.
And inside, I hear Isla screaming.