Page 101 of Feral Fates
I close my eyes once more, and imagine the bond between Ryker and I as a golden thread, gossamer-thin but sturdy. I reach for it, winding it around my fist, until it pulls tight.
There’s a gruesome thud as the alphas trade blows, a particularly vicious exchange that leaves them momentarily separated, and breathing heavily. Thaddeus’s white coat now bears streaks of red, evidence that Ryker’s attacks have found targets despite the Grand Alpha’s superior condition. But the damage is unequal—Ryker’s black fur is matted with blood from reopened wounds and fresh injuries, his breathing labored, his stance revealing the toll of sustained combat.
The thread tugs and through it I feel a whisper of Ryker’s exhaustion.
It’s working!
“Yield,” Thaddeus growls, the word distorted by shifted vocal cords but comprehensible. “End this farce.”
Ryker’s answering snarl holds no surrender.
They clash again, the impact audible across the plateau. This time, I feel the impact through our connection, feel Ryker’s desperate determination to keep fighting despite his injuries.
I’m here, Ryker. I feel you.
Whether he knows it or not, his fighting grows more violent. Teeth find purchase, muscle tears, blood sprays across stone as they roll in desperate struggle.
The thread pulses, and a voice whispers to me gently.
Pull.
I yank, and suddenly I can hear him as clearly as I can hear my own thoughts.
Pull, the voice whispers again.
I do, and a dozen of other connections slam into me,spreading out like threads on a spider’s web. It is a pack bond—usually reserved for only alphas. Through it, I sense the feelings and thoughts of the pack as they will their alpha to victory.
We’re with you, I send to Ryker.All of us.
His snarl answers, and I hear his reply in my head.
Mate.
Thaddeus circles, measured confidence in every step. He’s bleeding from multiple wounds, but none critical, none slowing his approach. He’s winning, and both know it.
“It was always going to end this way,” Thaddeus says, voice carrying despite his shifted form. “Prophecy or not, natural order prevails. The stronger leads. The weaker follows.”
Through our bond, I feel Ryker’s fading strength, his desperate search for reserves already depleted. He stands his ground despite crippling injury, undiminished even as his body fails him. In that moment, I understand with perfect clarity—he will die here rather than yield, sacrificing everything for the future he believes in.
No!
My vision snaps back with the force of a thunderclap. One moment I see only blood and stone—the next, the future unfurls before me like a map inked in fire. I seeThaddeus’s next move before he makes it—his weight shift, the way his back paw digs into earth, the sharp twitch of his shoulder before the lunge.
He’s going for Ryker’s throat.
Pack, I cry silently.Lend me your strength.
The threads flare—dozens, then hundreds—blazing gold and silver, twining around me in a net of shared will. I feel them answer my call with grief, fury, devotion. Love. They send it all.
I reach through our bond to my mate, no longer a passenger to his experience but an active participant. Wheresilver poison lingers in his system, I push it back. Where wounds drain his strength, I shore up his faltering reserves.
I don’t know how I’m doing this—if it’s the bond itself or some undiscovered facet of my gift—but I feel him respond, renewal flowing through our connection like spring water through parched earth.
Thaddeus charges again, expecting weakness, anticipating the kill that will end the challenge in one decisive moment. Instead, Ryker twists with unexpected speed to evade the primary attack while countering with a brutal force that catches even the Grand Alpha by surprise.
We’re one as we face him, Ryker using my vision to anticipate every move.
Ryker’s teeth find the vulnerable flesh where neck meets shoulder, sinking deep into Thaddeus’s muscle. He snarls, twisting to dislodge the attack, but Ryker holds firm, driving deeper despite the Grand Alpha’s desperate effort to break free.
