Page 54 of The Onyx Covenant

“Clever trick,” I tell the others, nodding toward Lyra.

“Looks like the Elios wolves are smarter than us after all,” Kieran states with a laugh, already securing his bag. Rachel follows suit, while Orion and Aria have already figured it out, their packs in place and bodies in wolf form, both light-colored gray wolves.

I finish securing my own, then call to my wolf. The change rips through me—bones snapping and re-forming, muscles tearing and rebuilding, skin giving way to fur. There’s pain, but it’s clean, familiar, almost welcome after the insidious burn of the serum.

When it’s done, I stand as a black wolf with silver streaking my flanks. I shake out my fur, feeling the weight of the pack settle between my shoulders.

Lyra’s scent hits me stronger now, and my wolf’s sense of smell picks up nuances my human nose missed—the subtle musk of her own arousal that she’s been trying to hide. The poison isn’t just affecting me. Good to know.

I meet each wolf’s eyes, establishing the hierarchy through gaze alone. Then I turn and lead the way along the path, our six-wolf pack moving through the midnight forest.

We cover ground rapidly now, our pace a steady trot that eats up miles without exhausting us. The forest opens to us.

Lyra keeps pace at my right flank, her fur flowing like moonlight. Kieran takes my left, his russet fur nearly black in the darkness. Rachel stays in the middle, while Orion and Aria bring up the rear, watching for threats from behind.

Must be a couple of hours that pass this way, the exertion burning away some of the poison’s effects. My head clears, though my awareness of Lyra’s presence never diminishes. Her scent, her movements, the occasional brush of her fur against mine when the path narrows—all of it feeds the hunger inside me.

When we reach a gurgling creek cutting across our path, I slow to a stop. The water is clear and cold, rushing down from the peaks ahead. I lower my head to drink, the cool water soothing my parched throat.

The others spread out along the bank, drinking deeply after our long run. Lyra laps at the water near me. Kieran and Rachel drink side by side, their shoulders touching casually. Orion keeps watch while Aria drinks.

An owl calls from a high branch while some small critters rustle in the underbrush, the wind sighing through ancient trees.

I’ve just lifted my head from the creek when I hear it—a howl rising from somewhere to our east. Not one of the entrants. The pitch is wrong, the cadence different. This is a wild wolf, one of the vicious packs that call the deepest woods home.

Another howl answers, then another. My ears swivel, tracking the sounds. Lyra tenses beside me, her body pressed against my side. Kieran moves closer, head low, hackles rising.

These aren’t ordinary wolves. The ones that survive in the Whispering Woods are larger and fiercer than their cousins elsewhere. Some say they’re touched by old magic. Whatever the truth, they’re dangerous—and territorial.

I let out a low growl, bringing my pack together.

More howls join the chorus—at least ten distinct voices, maybe more. Too many to fight, especially when we’re carrying no weapons but teeth and claws.

I can almost count the seconds before I catch the first flicker of movement between the trees, a shadow detaching from shadow, low to the ground, moving with predatory purpose. Then another. And another.

We’re being hunted.

I snarl and leap across the creek, the others following without hesitation. The water might dilute our scent trail, but it won’t buy us much time. We need distance, and we need it now.

We run—not the measured trot of before, but a full sprint, each of us pushing to our limits. I lead them through the trees, trying to find the path again while avoiding the worst of the underbrush. Lyra stays close to my side. Kieran occasionally drops back to snap at shadows that venture too close, his teeth flashing in the darkness.

Through breaks in the canopy, I catch sight of the Darkbone Peaks looming closer under the moonlight, twin spires of rock reaching for the night sky. But the howls behind us are gaining, coming from both sides now as well as behind.

They’re herding us.

A fallen log appears in our path. I clear it in a single bound, hearing the others jump after me. But a sharp yelp tells me someone has fallen. I skid to a stop, turning to find Aria struggling to her feet, blood darkening the fur of her left hind leg. Lyra is at her side in seconds.

Orion stands over her protectively, his teeth bared at the darkness. Rachel circles back to help, too, while Kieran takes up position beside me, facing the approaching threats.

A gray wolf slides from the shadows, lips peeled back to reveal yellowed fangs. He’s big, almost as large as Orion, with battle scars crisscrossing his muzzle. The pack Alpha, no doubt. Behind him, more pairs of eyes gleam in the darkness—fifteen, twenty, more.

I could take him one-on-one. Shifters are stronger than their wild cousins, and I’ve been trained to kill since childhood. But this isn’t one wolf. It’s an entire pack, and they are closing in.

I grunt, jerking my head to the right, away from the main concentration of wild wolves. Orion understands immediately, taking the lead position while I drop back with Kieran to guard our flanks and rear. Rachel helps Aria up, and we’re on the move again.

Protect the pack.Protect Lyra.The thoughts pulse frantically with each heartbeat as we sprint through unfamiliar territory, the howls at our heels driving us forward without time to choose our path.

The trees thin, and the ground beneath our paws changes from soft earth to hard stone. For a moment, the howls seem to fade, and I think we might have outrun them.

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