"Viremont's paying a fortune for—"
Serena's boot found his groin before he finished his sentence. His voice went up three octaves. Then he folded in on himself.
Conversation over.
Another rogue dropped from a tree. "Silverveil. Third-time runners don't get quick deaths."
Serena lunged forward, taking him by surprise, and drove her shoulder into his chest.
Before he could breathe, her boot found his groin, and he discovered religion on the way down.
Two down.
Only a small army to go.
She grabbed his sword, wasting no time, and glanced over her shoulder.
Elara stood frozen, wide-eyed, pressed against a tree. Still unshifted. Still vulnerable.
Legs trembling, Serena moved in front of her, putting herself between her and the threat.
They would not touch her. Absolutely not.
A full year in silver chains had burned her wolf out of existence. Aurelia was gone. But Elara could still shift. She still had a chance. If anyone was going to die today, it wouldn't be her.
"Shift and run," Serena called over her shoulder.
Elara gave a single nod and shifted mid-step, paws hitting the ground in a sprint.
More stepped into the clearing, blades drawn, chains hanging from their gloved hands.
"Dumb," Serena murmured, eyes flicking left. "Dumber." Her gaze slid right. "And desperate."
Five. Ten. Too many. Fuck.
Was this how she died?
"Fine," she breathed. "Come earn it."
"We meet again." A rogue squinted at her. "The collared one who cried when they put silver on her."
Her stomach turned. She could still feel the collar if she thought about it too long.
Chains whistled through the air, whipping towards her. She dodged one. Her borrowed sword blocked the second.
It didn't matter. They had her boxed in. Too many to outrun. Too many to fight.
They lunged in unison.
She braced for impact, but it came from the wrong direction.
Pain detonated from her chest.
Then gold light exploded from her body, the shockwave blasting every rogue thirty feet back.
A high-pitched scream tore from her throat before she could stop it.
She hit the ground, ears ringing, spots dancing in her vision.
Gold light flickered at the edges of her fingers. She studied her glowing hands, detached, like it was happening to someone else.
How interesting, she thought.
Then the first rogue groaned, and the daze shattered.
Whatever the hell just exploded from her was the least of her worries. They were already getting back up.
"No," she said, pushing herself off the ground. "I did not survive Viremont to die like this."
Not to these assholes. Not today.
One of the rogues staggered back to his feet. "KILL HER!"
She bolted from the clearing.
Shifts sounded behind her. Paws drummed the ground in pursuit. If they caught her, they'd rip her throat out with their teeth.
The forest floor and trees blurred around her.
Alpha speed should have been impossible. She had no wolf. Silver still burned in her blood. Yet her body did it.
A tree root caught her foot.
"Shit," she breathed, pushing herself back up. Survived a year in silver. Killed by a tree root. Fitting.
✦✦✦
Miles away, a massive black wolf skidded to a sudden stop, head snapping up. A scent struck him like a battering ram.
He could hear his own pulse in his ears, every sense sharpened to a razor point.
It smelled like pine, moonfire, and something painfully familiar. Like something he had lost and never stopped searching for.
Aegon: Run to it. Now.
Dexmon didn't need to be told twice. He felt his wolf's desperation along with his own.
All he knew was he wanted more of it.
Like a hook sunk deep, the scent yanked hard, and he ran towards it without thinking.
Moments later, he burst into a clearing and saw rogues shifting, silver chains, and the source of the scent.
His paws stopped working the instant he saw her. His entire body was screaming one word he didn't dare say.
Aegon: Why are we stopping. Why are we STOPPING.
Thick white hair was plastered to her face, the rest shoved into the collar of her shirt. Even from a distance, her green eyes were striking.
Then the rest of it hit him. Her clothes were soaked in blood. The sword she held looked too heavy for her wrists. She was surrounded on all sides, back against a tree.
But instead of cowering, she squared up to face them head on.
There was zero chance she could take them. She was unshifted, bleeding, and outnumbered.
Dexmon hit the fight in a blur of fur and teeth.
His jaws closed around one throat, then another. Blood, hot and copper, flooded his mouth. He didn't care.
Behind him, two attackers closed in on her. Instead of flinching, she charged towards them, catching both off guard.
She dove under their swinging chains, rolled, and came up on the other side.
Before either of them understood what happened, she kicked one hard in the back and sent him sprawling.
Aegon: ...Did she just charge them? And it actually worked?
More steel flashed.
Serena turned just in time to see a blade arcing towards the black wolf.
She had exactly half a second to register that this was a terrible idea. But some unholy mix of instinct, gratitude, and stupidity shoved her forward.
She stepped into the strike meant for him and the sword drove into her side.
Pain ripped through her. She gritted her teeth, refusing to scream. She would not give them that.
The wolf snarled as she fell to her knees.
In the same instant, pain carved through him too. It was so intense he staggered. His body screamed, but he wasn't the one stabbed.
Reinforcements flooded the clearing, cutting down every remaining rogue. Those who tried to run were hunted. No survivors. No mercy.
Dexmon shifted as she pitched forward, hands replacing fur just in time to catch her.
She stared up at him and for a moment the world stopped. Confusion flickered across her face.
The urge to mark her burned dangerously, heat coiling low in his body.
He wanted her pinned beneath him, breathing him in until there was nothing else.
That hunger terrified him more than the rogues ever could.
He shook his head once and swallowed the instinct like poison.
Restraint won. Barely.
Before Dexmon could say anything, her eyes fluttered closed.
Hot blood pooled from her side onto his arms.
"Fuck."
His wolf whispered a single word in his mind, but he already knew it.
Mate.
And she was dying in his arms.