Page 7 of The Pack

Another wolf leapt at me, its teeth bared, and I ducked, stabbing upward with the knife. The blade sank into its chest, and it collapsed, taking the knife with it.

I was unarmed now.

Okay. Things could definitely get worse.

The pack closed in, their growls rising to a fever pitch. My back hit a tree, and I pressed myself against it, my eyes darting wildly for an escape that didn’t exist.

The leader snarled, its massive body coiled to strike.

And then it leapt.

Time slowed.

I braced myself against the tree, arms raised to shield my face. My scream cut through the morning air, raw and terrified.

This was it. This was the moment I would die.

But the killing blow never came.

Instead, a giant shape slammed into the pack leader midair, knocking it aside with a thunderous crash. The black wolf hit the ground, snarling and thrashing, as a second wolf, a massive silver-furred beast, towered over it.

Another growl sounded to my right, and I turned to see a huge white wolf charge into the fray, its fur gleaming like snow in the pale morning light. It went straight for one of the smaller shifters, crashing into it with a force that sent both of them tumbling into the underbrush.

And then more wolves appeared.

Five of them burst from the forest like an incoming storm. They were nothing like the feral pack of shifters. They moved with purpose, with power and grace. Their fur shone in shades of silver, white, deep gray, blackish-gray, and reddish-brown, their eyes knowledgeable and intelligent. Where the feral shifter pack was wild and mangy, these wolves were absolutely majestic, regal.

Controlled.

They attacked with coordinated precision, working together like they’d been doing this for years. One distracted a shifter while another went for the kill. They fought like soldiers, each movement purposeful and efficient.

The black-furred pack leader recovered and lunged at the silver wolf, but the silver one was faster. It ducked under the attack, its massive jaws clamping down on the black wolf’s neck. The tworolled across the ground, snarling and biting, a blur of fur and teeth.

My heart thundered as I watched, frozen in place. The forest was alive with the sounds of battle: snarls, yelps, the snap of jaws, and the crack of branches.

The white wolf finished off another shifter, its sharp teeth sinking into the creature’s throat. It didn’t stop to savor the victory, instead spinning around to help one of the others.

It was pure chaos.

I didn’t know who these wolves were or why they were helping me, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

I turned and bolted.

My bare feet pounded against the ground as I ran, the sounds of the fight fading behind me. Adrenaline pushed me forward, my mind screaming one word over and over.

Run.

I tore through the forest, ducking under low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The trees began to thin, and soon I found myself at the edge of a small ravine.

The morning sun was higher overhead now and I glanced up at it, thankful for the light. A narrow stream trickled through the center, its water clear and sparkling. The sound of it was soothing, almost enough to make me believe I was safe.

At least for a couple of moments…

I slid down the slope, my feet skidding on loose dirt and pebbles. When I reached the bottom, I collapsed onto my knees besidethe stream, my chest heaving. I splashed water onto my face, washing away the sweat and blood.

For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe.

“I got away,” I whispered, the words barely audible over the rush of the stream. My hands trembled as I cupped more water, drinking deeply.

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