Before Kaldrek or Holden could lunge, they shifted into streaks of darkness, slipping past the wolves like a phantom wind. Evelyne watched as Alaric’s body crumpled to the ground like a broken puppet, but before she could scream, cold, strong hands seized her arms, wrenching her backward. She thrashed, kicking wildly, but their grips remained locked.
She screamed until her throat burned, but they didn’t stop moving. They dragged her deeper into the forest, their reeking scent a choking mix of decay and metal.
They moved so fast that the world blurred. Evelyne doubted even Kaldrek or Holden could match their speed. Suddenly, a clawed hand jerked her head sideways, baring her throat. A gust of rancid breath swept over her skin, and she instantly knew. It was going to feed.
A surge of white slammed into the creature pinning her, the impact so fierce it knocked her backward into the dirt. Evelyne’s vision spun asshe caught sight of Holden lunging at the second figure, his jaws locking around its gray-skinned throat. But it didn’t go down—it was too strong.
With inhuman speed, it ripped Holden off, its clawed hand grasping his scruff and hurling him across the clearing. Holden crashed against a tree, the clash so violent it shook the ground. A quick, painful whimper escaped him before his body fell.
Horror clawed at the edges of Evelyne’s mind, but she shoved it aside. She needed to move.
Panting, she crawled, dirt and twigs scraping against her palms. When she reached Alaric, she cradled him close, relief crashing through her as she felt the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was alive.
And still, the fight hadn’t stopped.
The creatures were too fast, moving in flickers of shadow, ducking, dodging, striking. Kaldrek lunged, his white fur streaked with blood that wasn’t his own, his jaws snapping just inches from his opponent’s throat. He was vicious and terrifying and undoubtedly the strongest in the pack, but she wasn’t sure he could bring the creature down alone.
They were outmatched. But as hope began to slip away, the heavy thud of approaching steps and rustling leaves cut through the night. Suddenly, they were no longer alone.
The trees trembled as the entire Ironwolf pack returned.
Dozens of fierce wolves burst into the clearing, their growls rumbling like an oncoming storm, their eyes blazing red with fury. Instantly, the creatures vanished. Their forms morphed from flesh to shadow before dissolving into the darkness. The only trace of their presence was the blood staining the ground.
Evelyne’s attention was fixed on Alaric. He was too still, and his normally tanned skin was unnervingly pale. Blood continued to seep fromthe bites on his forearm and neck. With frantic hands, she ripped the hem of her shirt, tearing the fabric into strips.
“Damn it—” She gritted her teeth as she pressed the fabric against the wounds. But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t until she caught movement from the corner of her eye that she realized the others were shifting back. Bodies, some naked, some cloaked in robes, emerged from the carnage. Holden was down but alive, and Heidara was already kneeling beside him, draping a cloth over his lower half.
When their eyes met, she rushed toward Evelyne without hesitation. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but please help him.” Her chest ached as she looked down at Alaric’s still body. “Please.”
Heidara’s warm hand landed on Evelyne’s shoulder. “Lorena is coming. She’s our best healer.”
“Thank you, Heidara.”
Lowering her brow to Alaric’s, Evelyne let the tears fall.
***
Within minutes, Alaric was wrapped in white bandages and healing herbs, but Evelyne remained at his side in the tent.
Please wake up. Please. Please.
She knew she should try to sleep—by dawn, they’d be on their own. On foot, wounded, and without the protection of the pack. But how could she sleep after what she had just witnessed? Alaric had been bitten, fed on, nearly drained of blood.
A sharp gust of air whipped through the tent as Kaldrek pushed inside. He was still bare from the waist up, his chest smeared with dirtand dried blood. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might snap, and his dark brown eyes flicked between her and Alaric.
“Did they hurt you?” Kaldrek’s voice was stern, clipped, like he barely had the patience to ask.
“No, I’ll be okay. But—” Evelyne’s fingers curled into the blankets as she stared at Alaric’s pale body. “What were those…things? They were horrible.”
“We call them the Noskari. They are the spawn of her bloodcraft, mindless thralls tethered to her darkness.”
Herthralls? A chill ran through Evelyne. “Vaelora’s?”
He nodded. “They’re stronger and faster than we are. We were lucky the others showed up when they did.”
