The other two were already circling.
They separated to flank him—a classic predator maneuver, designed to divide his attention and create openings. Theseweren’t random animals looking for easy prey. They were trained, experienced, and they’d chosen their ground carefully. The narrow path meant Leo couldn’t retreat without presenting his back. The cliff edge meant he couldn’t maneuver without risking a fatal fall.
They’d planned this. Studied his patterns. Known exactly where he’d be.
Victor.
The name blazed through Leo’s mind with absolute certainty.
Rage ignited in Leo’s gut. Burning. Consuming.
The beast inside him didn’t wait for permission.
The shift ripped through him in a wave of heat and breaking bone. His expensive clothes shredded as his body expanded, reforming into the shape he’d spent years keeping caged. Golden fur rippled across his skin. His jaw elongated, filling with teeth designed for tearing. His spine curved, dropping him to four massive paws. His vision sharpened, narrowing to predator focus as his dark mane settled around his powerful shoulders.
He roared.
The sound echoed off the cliffs, a challenge that shook the air and sent birds scattering from their roosts. The wardstones somewhere in town flared in response—he felt them, distantly, reacting to the surge of raw shifter power. Let the whole town hear. Let them know that an apex predator had awakened on their cliffs.
The jackals hesitated. Their smaller frames went rigid with sudden, instinctive fear as they confronted four hundred pounds of furious lion.
Good. They should be afraid.
Leo launched himself at the nearest attacker.
The fight was brutal.
Leo’s claws caught the first jackal across the flank, opening deep gashes that sprayed crimson across the rocky ground. The creature screamed—a sound that was almost human in its agony—and twisted away, limping toward the brush.
Before Leo could pursue, the third jackal struck from behind. Teeth sank into his shoulder with crushing force, grinding against muscle and tendon. Pain lanced down his spine, sharp and immediate, the kind of pain that demanded attention even in the heat of combat.
Leo snarled, the sound from somewhere primal and furious. He twisted his massive body, using his greater weight to throw off the attacker. His claws raked across the jackal’s muzzle as it released him, opening a gash from eye to jaw that would leave a permanent scar.
Blood. Everywhere. The copper scent of it filled his nostrils, hot and vital. Some of it was his. More of it was theirs.
The first jackal had recovered from its collision with the rocks. All three circled now, wary but not retreating, their golden eyes calculating the best angle of attack. Leo turned slowly, keeping them in his peripheral vision, waiting for one to commit.
Three against one. They think they can overwhelm you.
The predator’s instincts were distinct from his own—clearer, simpler, driven by fury rather than strategy.
Show them what four hundred pounds of pissed-off lion can do.
The jackals attacked as one.
Leo met them head-on. Claws against teeth. Strength against cunning. He caught the first one’s throat in his jaws and bitdown, tasting blood and fur, feeling the creature’s whine vibrate against his tongue. The second raked its claws down his side—agony, bright and sharp—and Leo released his grip to deal with the new threat.
A slash opened across his ribs. Deep. The pain was staggering, worse than anything he’d felt in decades of controlled existence. Leo roared again, fury and hurt combined, and threw his weight against the jackal who’d wounded him. His claws found purchase in golden fur. He tore.
The jackal went down.
Two left. One limping badly, the other bleeding from its face, but still dangerous.
They should have run. Any sensible predator would have retreated, cut their losses, reported failure to their master. But these were Victor’s creatures, and Victor demanded results.
The limping one fled anyway, self-preservation overriding loyalty. Leo let it go—his attention was focused on the remaining threat, the largest of the three, who stood between him and the path back to town.
This one’s eyes held calculation rather than fear. This one had been saving its strength while its packmates wore Leo down.
