Page 1 of My Fated Mate

Chapter 1

THORNE

Tension hangs heavy in the air as we patrol the edge of the Silver Crescent Pack territory—ourterritory.

My muscles strain with anticipation, and my senses are sharpened for any sign of intruders. I knew those bastards would try something again, and I am not going to wait around for them to do so.

It's been a month since the last time Shadow Fang Pack tried to pull a stupid stunt and invade my territory.

Other packs will consider them rash for even trying to go against Silver Crescent, but for them to keep returning, it seems they have something up their sleeves.

“I can sense them.” My loyal beta, Rylan, is at my side, his steely gaze mirroring mine.

Behind us, the omega, Tessa, moves with silent grace, her presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. And leading the charge, my fiercest warrior, Zane, prowls ahead, his eyes ablaze with the thrill of the hunt.

As the scent of Shadow Fang taints the air, a primal rage ignites within me. They've again dared to encroach upon our territory, challenging our dominance.

"Prepare yourselves," I growl to my packmates. "We won’t allow them to take what is ours."

With a silent command, we spring into action. Zane's howl pierces the night, signaling our presence to the enemy. They respond in kind, their own war cries echoing through the forest.

I charge forward, my claws extending, ready to tear into flesh. Alongside me, Rylan’s strength matches mine as we face off against the Shadow Fangs.

"Stay close," I mutter to him.

Beside us, Tessa darts between the trees, her agility a deadly weapon against our foes. "Keep them distracted," I instruct her, my voice carrying over the din of battle. "We need to thin their numbers."

Soon, we spot them by the edge of the forest, racing toward us in a blur of inhuman speed.

I grin, adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I sprint towards them, tearing off my shirt as I go.

With a roar, I leap into the air. My body contorts as bones crack and reshape. The excruciating pain that comes with shifting is something I’m used to.

I swipe with my deadly claws at the belly of a brown wolf that jumps at me with a snarl. It lets out a whimper and tumbles to the side, blood gushing from its wounds before it falls, lifeless.

I continue to charge into the chaos, my muscles burning with the need to fight and spill the blood of my enemies.

The clash of fur and fangs fills the air as our packs collide. Even in the fray, I lock eyes with the leader of the Shadow Fangs, a savage brute with a hunger for power.

His fur is a deep shade of black that seems to absorb the moonlight. His amber eyes gleam with predatory malice as he sizes me up. This brute, with his massive frame and scarred snout, exudes ruthless power that sends a shiver down any wolf's spine.

Except me. He knows that. That's one of the reasons he hates me and wants my territory.

We have been enemies for as long as I can remember. Fenrir, a name whispered in fear and awe among both our packs.

He embodies everything I despise: cruelty, greed, and an insatiable thirst for dominance. Our clashes have become legendary, each battle fueled by a deep-seated animosity.

As Fenrir lunges at me and his teeth bare in a savage snarl, I meet him head-on. Our bodies collide with a force that reverberates through the night. His strength is immense, his blows raining upon me like thunder, but I refuse to yield.

Howling and gritting my fangs, I push back against him. I refuse to let him gain the upper hand.

Our fight is a dance of death, each of us testing the other's limits, seeking out weaknesses to exploit. Fenrir is a worthy adversary, but I won’t falter in my duty to protect my pack and our territory.

As our claws clash and our fangs gnash, I can't help but wonder what drives Fenrir. Is it power? Revenge? Or does something darker lurk beneath his savage exterior? Whatever it is, he can kiss my ass because there's no way he’s getting what he wants.

I bare my teeth, and without hesitation, I launch at him again. Our bodies collide, and I taste the acrid scent of his fury in the air.

His wolf is strong, but so is mine.

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