Page 107 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
That’s when I hear him—Marcus. On the wolf channel.
“Why did you take my mate?”
“That was never my intention, Marcus,”I answer, blood roaring in my ears.“I am truly sorry, my friend. No one should lose their true fated mate."
"Not you, Noah. Bode. Marsha wasn’t my fated mate. Bode, you took my mate from me.”
There’s silence.
The trap creaks beneath me. I feel hands. Human.
Marcus.
He wrenches it open and pulls me free, sweat pouring down his face. His golden eyes meet mine, wounded and angry.
“He’s held our pasts over us long enough. Let's end this…for Natalie,” he spits out.
I nod, shift, and launch myself at the monster who dared call himself my blood.
The second the words are out of his mouth, I explode into the night like a cannonball.
Bode is on Sera again—claws out, jaw wide, his massive body shadowing hers in the firelight. Her hands are up, magic charging between her palms, but I can feel the strain in her aura. She’s fading.
He knocks her down.
I see red.
I charge, sink my fangs into his exposed flank mid-leap, and drag him back before he can finish her.
He yowls, spinning to rake claws across my chest, but I’m already ducking, already countering, driving him backward. We crash through the underbrush, a whirlwind of teeth and muscle, snapping jaws and raking talons.
But he’s strong—damn strong.
Bode slams me to the dirt. His paw comes down like a hammer. I barely roll in time. Pain shoots down my ribs. He’s got a good angle on me now, towering, his teeth glinting like daggers in the firelight.
And that’s when she hits him.
Sera’s spell explodes against his back—raw elemental fire.
He shrieks, thrashing wildly as smoke rises from his fur in thick, choking tendrils. The stench of scorched hair floods the clearing, sharp and acrid, mixing with his cries of pain.
I scramble up, blood pounding in my ears.
Sera’s on her knees, panting hard, one hand on the ground for balance, the other fumbling in her pouch for something. She’s empty. Drained. But she still manages a half-smile when she sees me.
That’s all I need.
I launch myself again, catching Bode mid-charge. We tumble, clawing, biting, snarling. My claws find his throat. I go for the kill—but he bucks and flings me off, just as Marcus barrels in from the right, his human form wielding a flaming branch like a club.
He slams it across Bode’s skull. Bode falls to the ground and rolls out the flames as if he’s a demon in hell.
His beast yowls in rage and pain, spinning on Marcus.
But Marcus doesn’t back down. He’s no longer the boy hiding behind excuses or running from his past. He’s here. In it. Fighting.
Bode hesitates—calculating, confused—and that’s when Marcus grabs the burning stick and presses it into the gasoline line.
The flames surge.
