Page 86 of My Fated Mate

A wolf slams into me, sending a jolt of pain through my shoulder.

I shove him aside, adrenaline momentarily overriding the sting.

A flash of silver catches my eye—a glint of metal tucked inside the dark fur. It's Kain, a whirlwind of fangs and claws, carving a route for us.

Thorne fights with a controlled fury, his eyes gleaming with a deadly focus.

My vision blurs at the edges, the constant movement and the overwhelming scent of blood threatening to pull me under.

We have to get away from the battle, away from the noise, away from everything so I can focus.

Suddenly, Thorne throws me a sharp look. "This way!" he barks over the din.

He veers off the main path, plunging into the shadowy depths of the forest.

The undergrowth whips at my face as I follow, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Branches snag at my clothes, tearing at my already frayed nerves.

Each rustle in the undergrowth sends a fresh wave of panic crashing over me.

Is it another enemy? Worse—is it the traitor who betrayed us?

Thorne weaves through the tangled vegetation with ease, his movements a blur in the dim light.

Kain flanks us, his dark form silent and swift.

We move silently, driven by the knowledge that time is running out. With every passing moment, the darkness strengthens, its suffocating tendrils reaching out to steal the very hope from our hearts.

The once lush greenery gives way to a grove of ancient oaks. The trees here stand like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at the shrouded sky. The forest floor is carpeted with a thick layer of decaying leaves, muffling our footsteps.

An unnatural stillness hangs in the air, broken only by the occasional snap of a twig or the rustle of unseen creatures.

A shiver runs down my spine despite the overbearing heat that hangs heavy in the air.

This place feels different, wrong. Fear threatens to paralyze me, but I clench my jaw, forcing myself forward.

We're so close. I can feel a prickling sensation on my skin, a pull towards something dark and powerful.

Then, without warning, the air crackles with an energy that sets my teeth on edge. The hairs on my neck stand on end, and a primal fear washes over me.

We've found it.

A clearing emerges from the dense undergrowth, bathed in an unnatural green glow.

It’s the source of the darkness. In the center stands a lone figure, their face obscured by the hood of their obsidian robe.

The air thrums with an oppressive energy, a malevolent force that threatens to suffocate us. My breath catches in my throat as recognition slams into me.

The figure raises a hand, the green light swirling around it like a hungry vortex.

It's him.

Varis, the rogue mage who has plagued our lands for years.

Was he the Dark Moon’s Alpha?!

How?!

Since when was he a werewolf?!

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