Page 105 of The Cursed Wolf King

Logan shifted a heartbeat later, his transformation almost seamless. Where Grayson’s shift had been abrupt, violent, Logan’s was fluid—a predator settling into his true form. His wolf was leaner, but with solid muscle and no lessimposing, and the brown earthy color of his fur soothed my wolf on sight. His eyes glowed with an intensity that stole my breath, the bond between us thrumming as he turned to face Grayson.

The two wolves circled each other, claws scraping against the dirt, their growls intertwining in a feral symphony. Around us, the Heraclid pack held its collective breath, the silence punctuated only by the occasional shuffle of paws or the snap of a twig.

Grayson lunged.

It was fast—too fast. He barreled into Logan with the force of a wrecking ball, his massive frame knocking Logan off-balance. Logan recovered quickly, twisting in mid-air to land on his feet, his claws raking across Grayson’s shoulder in retaliation. Blood sprayed, a dark crimson streak against the wolf’s gray fur, but Grayson didn’t even flinch.

Grayson pressed the attack, his movements brutal and relentless. He snapped at Logan’s throat, his fangs gleaming in the dim light of the cloud-covered moon. Logan ducked, countering with a powerful swipe that sent Grayson staggering back.

My heart was in my throat, my wolf panting frantically within me. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to run to him, to do something, but I was rooted to the spot, watching as the man I loved fought for everything—his pack, his pride, his life.

Logan moved like liquid silver, dodging and weaving with a precision that was almost beautiful. Strain was evident in his every move, in the hesitation in his steps. The bond between us flared again, and I felt the weight pulling at him, dragging him down.

Grayson took advantage of the momentary lapse, slamming into Logan’s side and sending him sprawling. Logan’s head snapped back with the impact, a low whine escaping his throat as he hit the ground.

“Get up,” I whispered, my voice quivering at the forbidden thought that he might not. “Come on, Logan. Get up.”

He did, shaking off the blow and charging at Grayson with renewed ferocity. The two wolves collided in a tangle of fur and fangs, their snarls echoing like thunder. Logan’s teeth found purchase on Grayson’s flank, and he held on, even as Grayson twisted and clawed at him with savage desperation.

Blood dripped onto the ground, dark and viscous, the scent of it sharp in the air. My stomach churned, but I couldn’t look away. This wasn’t just a fight. It was survival.

Grayson’s tactics grew dirtier as the fight dragged on. He aimed for Logan’s injured side, his claws tearing into flesh that was already raw. Logan stumbled, his breath coming in short, labored pants. There was a fire in them, a determination that refused to be snuffed out.

And then it happened. Grayson feinted to the left before pivoting, his massive jaws clamping down on Logan’s hind leg. Logan let out a sharp yelp of pain, buckling under the weight of the attack. Grayson shook him violently, the force of it enough to lift Logan off the ground before slamming him back down.

The Heraclids around us shifted uneasily, their growls a low murmur of unease. My wolf howled inside me, her fury and anguish mixing into a chaotic mass of emotion. The Heraclid pack’s energy was building into a frenzy—fractured and wavering. The division was more palpable than ever. Their energy built in me, a new sensation.

“Anwen.” I touched her arm. “I’m getting their energy. It’s filling me.” I was like an ancient chalice that had awaited wine for centuries. Full at last.

“Use it,” she said.

The bond between Logan and me pulsed with agonizing intensity. His pain was mine now, a burning ache that spread through my chest and settled deep in my bones. The pack was drawn to Logan even as he lay battered and bloodied.

Use it?

Logan struggled to his feet, his legs trembling. He let out a low growl, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

The spark in the pack grew stronger in me, brighter, their energy coalescing like a rising tide.

My sight went black.

The clearing melted away, replaced by a vision so vivid it felt like I’d been yanked into another plane of existence.

Logan lay on the ground, bloodied and battered, his fur matted with blood. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his strength faltering. Grayson towered above him, his wolf sneering in triumph, claws poised for a final, fatal blow.

“No,” I whispered, the word barely forming on my lips.

The vision changed.

I saw myself—only it wasn’t the version of me I knew. This Eve was radiant, standing tall and unafraid, her eyes glowing with a light that pulsed in time with the beat of a hundred hearts. Around her, the Heraclid wolves gathered, their energy flowing toward her in streamsof light, converging and amplifying like rivers feeding into a powerful current.

I watched as this version of me stepped forward, the light from the wolves’ energy pouring through her hands. She touched Logan, and the light transferred to him, his battered form soaking it in like a parched earth drinking rain. His wounds mended, his strength returned, and with it came something greater—a unity, a purpose, a power that could not be broken.

This was my role. To take the fractured, desperate energy of the wolves around me and weave it into something unstoppable.

The vision shattered, and I was back in the clearing, gasping for air.

I stumbled and would have fallen if Kenza and Anwen hadn’t been at my sides. Both of them staggered as if they’d been struck by the same force.

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