His dark humor barely registers. My focus narrows to Astrid—her heartbeat, her scent, the way she's positioning herself to try to shield her rookies even as the harbingers gather for an attack. Protective instinct surges through me like wildfire, burning away all hesitation.
I don't wait for Cormac's approval. The harbingers dive as one, their movements unnaturally synchronized, wings sharp-edged and deadly as they swoop toward the GUIDE team. Mendez fires in panic, her shot hitting one of the birds, which explodes into black smoke—only to coalesce into solid form again a heartbeat later, completely unharmed.
I break through Cormac's glamour at full sprint, my wolf lending me speed beyond human capability. The magick in my blood sings as I push my muscles to their limit, faster than I've moved in decades.
"Get down!" I roar, my voice carrying authority that demands attention, closing the distance to the rookies in seconds.
Sutter turns, eyes widening in recognition and alarm. I see the moment he remembers me from the restaurant, confusion and fear warring on his face. He's too slow. My fist connects with his temple with carefully measured force—just enough to render him unconscious without causing permanent damage. The impact shudders up my arm as he crumples like a puppet with cut strings.
I pivot immediately, my senses tracking Mendez as she tries to bring her weapon around. There's no time to explain, no time for gentleness. My strike catches her with similar precision before she can aim at me. Both rookies drop to the ground, vulnerable but safer appearing dead rather than live targets. I send a silent prayer to Odin Father for their protection and turn toward the only person who truly matters. My mate.
"Astrid, down!" I shout again, already lunging toward her as a swarm of harbingers pivot in the air, their formation shifting like liquid shadow as they redirect toward her. The sight of those obsidian beaks aimed at her sends a surge of primal rage through my entire being.
She drops instantly, her trained reflexes a beautiful thing to behold.
I gather all my strength and leap over her in a powerful arc, simultaneously calling up my wolf. The transformation comes faster than ever before—bones cracking and reforming, muscles expanding, skin giving way to thick fur. The pain that normally accompanies the change is barely a whisper compared to the roaring need to protect.
I land between Astrid and the harbingers fully transformed, my massive silver-black form a living barrier between her and certain death. The roar that tears from my chest is primordial thunder, reverberating through the dying forest with such force that the few remaining dead leaves shudder loose from withered branches. The sound carries all the fury and protective rage of a monster defending its mate.
The harbingers pull up sharply, wings beating frantically as they halt their attack mid-dive. The sudden stillness is almost as shocking as their previous aggression. I advance one deliberate step, then another, jaws open to reveal fangs designed to crush bone.
The rumble in my chest never ceases, a continuous warning that vibrates through the ground itself. Each massive paw crushes the decayed forest floor as I position myself over Astrid's crouched form, my body language broadcasting a single message.
Attack and risk their own death.
The standoff stretches into an eternity of heartbeats. My wolf senses catalogue everything—the acrid scent of the harbingers, the rapid flutter of Astrid's pulse behind me, the eerie stillness of the dead forest around us.
Finally, the birds retreat to nearby trees, arranging themselves in an ominous semicircle, their red eyes fixed unblinkingly on me. They've backed off but haven't fled.
I remain vigilant, every muscle tensed and ready, my fur bristling along my spine. My wolf's mind is crystal clear in this moment, all human complexity stripped away to a single purpose… protect my mate.
Astrid slowly rises to her feet behind me, her breathing controlled but rapid. "Fen?" she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The sound of my name on her lips sends a ripple of pleasure through my wolf's consciousness, a sensation so profound it momentarily distracts me from the threat. My ear flicks back toward her voice even as my eyes remain fixed on the harbingers, unwilling to give them an opening.
There’s no fight with my inner beast when Astrid is present. We are perfectly in sync as we have been in the past before the darkness started claiming my humanity. She calms the rage and the chaos.
Gradually, deliberately, I pull my wolf back, focusing on the calm Astrid's presence brings to my chaotic nature. The change begins at my core, a warm current of energy flowing outward through my massive frame. My fur recedes first, silver-black strands melting back into skin like frost under morning sun. Bones shift and realign with a series of muted cracks, the sensation strange but not as agonizing as it usually is.
My wolf's consciousness folds gently into my human mind rather than fighting to maintain dominance like usual. My jaws reshape, fangs retracting, muzzle shortening as my face restructures itself. Astrid's scent grounds me throughout the transformation, her steady heartbeat a metronome that guides the rhythm of my change. Paws elongate into fingers and toes, claws receding as human nails take their place.
The final stage ripples across my skin like water and the last vestiges of my wolf give way to the man with a smoothness I haven't experienced in decades. The usual burning sensation is replaced by a gentle warmth, as if her presence somehow helps me maintain balance between my two natures.
Within moments, I stand before her in human form again, the transformation complete.
Her eyes widen, then immediately dart upward to fix firmly on my face, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "Um, you are…"
"Clothes don’t survive the change," I reply, making no move to cover myself. Besides, the way her pulse quickens when she looks at me is... gratifying.
"Obviously," she mutters, still maintaining determined eye contact.
As if on cue, Cormac materializes beside us, Fae glamour dropping as he approaches. He tosses me a pair of sweatpants from his backpack.
"Thanks." I catch them one-handed and step into them, deliberately unhurried.
"Grey sweatpants. Again." Astrid's voice carries a note of disbelief as I tie the drawstring. "Is that some kind of signature look for you?"
Cormac coughs to hide what sounds suspiciously like laughter. "The brownies have strong opinions about men's fashion."
