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They had to move quickly.
“Now,” Derek whispered upon Jost’s emergence.
He shifted, leaving his torn clothing in the water, and he charged.
The first shifter he attacked hardly saw him coming but let out a shrill scream that alerted the other enemies.
As he tore into the shifter’s ribcage, letting the blood flow freely, Derek saw Cyrus running across the bridge.
“I wondered when you’d come,” Cyrus said, bracing himself for the coming shift. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone. It would be too honorable for you to let us recover our forces.”
Derek spoke into Cyrus’s mind telepathically.
“Honor? You know nothing of honor.”
Cyrus’s lip curled, his teeth pulling back to expose an emerging muzzle.
Before Derek could process what was happening, he saw Iris’s wolf form leaping into the air. In the light of the glowing lanterns, she was even more gorgeous, the deep red of her fur more radiant than he had ever seen.
She bit into Cyrus’s neck just as he shifted.
“Attack!” Mason, still in human form, shouted, his silver dagger extended and ready.
They came from out of primitive cabins and behind storage shelves, from behind walls and hidden cave passages. Cyrus’s men stormed the perimeter, loading onto the bridge and across wooden platforms.
There were so many of them.
But still, Iris wouldn’t let go, her fangs digging deep into Cyrus’s neck. She would not take him prisoner. She would never release her grip until he was dead. As his followers swatted at her, attempting to stab her with silver knives, she swung nimbly out of the way.
Cyrus escaped on the wooden bridge, bleeding out. His last words were utterly incoherent. He had thought himself a martyr, but he would die as little more than a footnote.
Derek loved Iris’s darkness. He had coddled her so tightly, afraid of corrupting her.
But here she was on full display. And she was magnificent.
They stormed the traitors. Some of them had been ready and had become wolves in preparation. Some never even hadthe time to shift before they had already been dispatched and disposed of.
Derek, Iris, Mason, and Jost fought ruthlessly, determined to end this forever. But they were no match for an organized force that currently numbered seven wolves and ten men.
“Keep going!” Derek shouted as they launched through the immense hidden cave system. “Leave no holdouts! No mercy!”
They dodged silver blades and metal bullets, not to mention fists and fangs.
In his quest for power, Cyrus had found the most primitive holdout imaginable. And his legacy would suffer for it.
Then Derek saw Iris, completely surrounded. He had gotten cocky, letting her wander ahead. On five sides, she was encircled by men, who extended their blades cautiously forward.
“You’re surrounded, bitch,” one of them shouted. “Give up and make this easy on yourself.”
But rather than fearing the poisoned blades, Iris lowered her wolf body and ducked down until she was just out of their reach and nipped at their feet, leaving bloody stumps where their toes once were.
One man was unharmed, and he turned and dove toward the water below.
“Remember me!” he shouted, but his cries were silenced by the jagged rocks that crumpled his body on impact.
And then there were no more men or wolves remaining.
It had been a slaughter. Derek was glad there were no survivors, but a sliver of pity crossed him.
