Page 90 of A Reign of Malice
Poison.
The fury in me surges, burning white-hot.
With a snarl, I barrel forward faster. The battlefield becomes a storm. Claws raking flesh, howls cutting through the air, the stench of blood thickening with every heartbeat. I dodge another arrow, my wolf twisting mid-run. The archer that fired it won’t get another chance.
But before I can reach him, another wolf blocks my path. Midnight fur, silver eyes wide as we crash together. His teeth snap for my throat, but he’s trembling. I feel it in the way his body shudders beneath mine. Even his movements are almost hesitant.
This one doesn’t want to be here.
He’s not fighting for a cause. He’s following a forced command.
I pin him, my claws digging into the soft flesh near his neck. Not enough to kill, just enough to warn. My growl vibrates through him, a low, savage sound that says: don’t move again.
He doesn’t.
I shift my weight then slam my shoulder into his side, breaking a rib, maybe two. He lets out a pained whine, but remains still, his muzzle pressed to the dirt in surrender.
Good. I don’t want to kill wolves like him.
Once I feel certain he’s going to stay down, I walk away,prepared for the next attacker, but it’s not a foe who joins me.
Garron’s at my side, glancing between me and the fallen wolf. He nods as if he understands. Some of these wolves aren’t fighting out of loyalty. They’re fighting out of fear, and that doesn’t deserve a death sentence.
Up ahead, Estee rips through a shifter twice her size with a precision that borders on brutal elegance. Isla fights at her back, but in her human form for now. There’s fire in her eyes, her blades twin streaks of silver slashing through the chaos.
Asher’s growl echoes loudly above the cacophony as he takes down a pair of wolves with a single leap. Theo’s close behind him, fangs at the ready to finish the kill, dripping crimson.
Still, I can’t take the time to see who’s fallen, who’s still standing, who’s bleeding, and who’s still breathing. I am not their savior today.
Not yet.
My wolf surges inside me, our bond with Sloane like a beacon through the noise and fire. We can feel her—distant but not gone. Hurt but not broken. We just have to reach her.
Snarling, I charge forward again, no hesitation in my limbs, no fear left in my bones.
My mate is in that castle. And no force, no poison, no army will keep me from her.
I’m nearly there. I can feel her thrumming through our bond, flickering with pain and fury and something I can’t quite name. But it draws me like gravity.
Until something slams into me from the side.
The impact is jarring. Bone meeting bone. Claws raking across my flank, hot blood spilling in seconds.
I roll with it, instincts honed to the edge. We crash to the earth, snarling, snapping, a blur of fur and violence.
The wolf on top of me is nearly my size, dark red fur already matted with blood, none of it seeming to be his own. His eyes are wild. Not frightened like some of the others. This one is here to kill.
I twist, trying to throw him, but he’s strong, his claws finding purchase along my shoulder once more. Pain blooms, sharp and brutal. He bites down toward my throat.
I rear back and slam my skull into his jaw. The crack echoes in my ears.
He yelps, but only for a second before lunging again. This time, I’m ready. I sink my fangs into the side of his neck, not deep enough to kill, but close.
He bucks, blood flying in droplets between us.
We grapple, a dance of rage and dominance, claws tearing at flesh, fur soaked and slick. My vision narrows, the world reduced to crimson and instinct. He catches my leg, biting down hard. I roar and slam him to the ground, both paws on his chest.
This time, I don’t hesitate.
