Page 77 of Feral Fates
“I break no truce,” Thaddeus snarls. “You have broken sanctity with us, long ago.”
“The Shadowmist has never lost sight of our true lore—that of the wolf. We will not start now.”
“Then war it is.” Thaddeus’s declaration carries finality. “Beginning here, beginning now.”
The words act as a signal—wolves from multiple packs shifting stance from diplomatic to aggressive, hands moving to concealed weapons, bodies tensing for combat. Our escort responds instantly, forming a protective circle around Ryker and me.
Adrenaline spikes, a sharp tang on my tongue. I don’t move—can’t—but every nerve is lit up, my senses on fire. The thud of my heartbeat echoes through my chest, each beat a warning drum. Still, I force myself to stay upright, rooted, watching. Observing every shift in posture, every flicker of movement.
Then, instinctively, my hand drifts to my waist, fingers brushing the hidden sheath beneath my dress. The dagger Ryker gave me waits.
“This violates our sacred truce,” Ryker growls, though he sounds unsurprised. “Even for you, Thaddeus, breaking parley is low.”
“Nothing is sacred when the future of our kind hangs in the balance.” Thaddeus makes a subtle gesture, and his personal guards step forward. “One last chance, shadow wolf. Surrender the seer.”
“Never.”
The single word carries absolute conviction. I can feel Ryker’s unwavering resolve, his willingness to fight and die rather than yield me to Thaddeus’s “cleansing”—a process I know would destroy not just my freedom but my sanity.
Time seems to slow as tension crests toward inevitable violence. I reach for Ryker’s hand, our fingers intertwining in silent solidarity. Whatever comes, we face it together.
“As you wish.” Thaddeus steps back, and chaos erupts.
Wolves from all sides surge forward, weapons appearing as if by magic. Our escort meets them in a violent clash—Lithia engages three attackers at once, Elias back-to-back withThorn take on a group of Moonclaw enforcers, while Vex and Ash create a defensive perimeter around us alongside the remaining escort.
Ryker pulls me behind him as he shifts, his massive black wolf manifesting in an eyeblink. He shakes off the remnants of his shredded clothes, baring his teeth. The transformation sends attackers stumbling back, even hardened warriors hesitating before the legendary Shadowmist alpha.
Then the battlefield erupts.
All around me, wolves clash in a frenzy of fur and steel. Snarls split the air, a guttural, violent chorus that drowns out rational thought. The coppery tang of blood invades my nostrils, thick and metallic, mingling with the scent of sweat, fear, and fury. Blades flash under the moonlight—silver arcing through shadows— met with claws and teeth bared in feral rage.
A wolf from our escort lunges toward a rival, jaws locking onto the other’s throat. They tumble to the ground in a blur, limbs tangled, snarls deafening as they roll through the dirt. Another warrior screams—human, not shifted—the sound abruptly cut off as he falls to his knees, crimson gushing from a wound in his side.
I recognize him—Oliver, one of the youngest fighters from the eastern flank. His sword slips from his hand as he’s tackled by two larger wolves, one of them sinking teeth into his shoulder.
My breath catches and everything slows for half a second.
This is real.
Zella appears at my side, her hand clamping down on my arm. “Stay with me,” she urges, tugging me toward what looks like a thinning in the fight—a narrow corridor of potential escape that’s rapidly closing.
“We can’t leave him—” I protest, my eyes tracking Ryker. He’s a force of destruction, all primal fury and lethal grace. Every movement is purposeful, deadly—fangs flashing,claws raking down flesh, blood spraying as he sends enemy after enemy to the ground. He’s holding nothing back.
Instinct rebels at the idea of running. Our bond thrums like a struck chord, vibrating through my bones with protest.
Don’t leave. Stay. Fight.
“He ordered me to protect you at all costs,” Zella says fiercely, yanking again. “Trust me, Kitara. Please.”
The battlefield shifts again—our defenders pushed back by sheer numbers. A feral scream cuts through the melee, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal meeting bone.
“This way!” Zella growls, dragging me now. “Quickly, before they surround us completely!”
My body finally responds. Decision made, I follow her, trusting her instincts more than my own. We race toward the tree line, her body half shielding mine from the chaos behind.
Through our bond, I feel Ryker’s sharp flare of alarm at our movement—then reluctant approval.
Get clear. I’ll find you after.
