Page 62 of Wolf of the Storm
One seal reinforced.
More convergence points to strengthen.
I want to believe we can do it. I do. But as I drift toward unconsciousness in Declan's arms, one thought follows me down into darkness:
Connor killed someone while Declan was giving me his mother's ring. While I was promising forever.
We're not fast enough.
CHAPTER 16
DECLAN
Twenty-four hours after the eastern shore ritual, and I can feel the island bleeding.
Four seals remain. Four bloodline carriers plus Eliza are still breathing. Connor needs just three more deaths plus Eliza to complete his ritual. When the others have fallen, he'll come for Eliza. The woman whose connection to ancient magic makes her the keystone. Kill her, break her seal, and the Fomori walks free.
I won't let that happen.
"Movement in the north." Rafe's voice crackles through the radio clipped to my belt. "Three vehicles heading toward the druid-blood's farm."
"South too," Kian reports. "Boats approaching the fae-blood's cottage on the peninsula."
My jaw clenches. Connor's changing tactics. No more careful, spaced-out ritual murders. He's striking everywhere at once.
"Western cove," Grayson adds, his tone grim. "I've got eyes on four shifters circling the earth-warden's property."
Four locations—north, south, west and the village. Four remaining carriers. And only six of us to defend them all.
"We split up," I say, the words tasting like ash. Everything in my alpha instincts screams against dividing our forces. The strength of the brotherhood comes from unity. But we don't have a choice.
Through the mate-bond, I feel Eliza's spike of fear. She's upstairs in Clifftop House, listening to every word through her own radio. Safe for now. But not for long.
"Rafe, take the north. You know the druids best."
“On it,” replies the panther-shifter.
"Kian, the south is yours. Use the water. Grayson, hold the western cove—the earth-warden trusts you."
"That leaves the village," Jax says quietly. "Flynn's Inn. Where the last carrier is hiding."
I meet his grey eyes. My most volatile brother. The one who hated Eliza on sight, who attacked her during the trials. The one who now watches her back with the intensity of a convert's faith.
"You and I defend the village," I tell him. "With Eliza."
"I’m not staying behind," Eliza's voice comes through the radio. Not a question. A statement.
"No," I agree, my wolf rising with pride even as my human side wants to lock her away somewhere safe. "She's not. The last carrier is a child, Jax. Eight years old. Her grandmother runs Flynn's Inn."
Jax's expression hardens. Whatever darkness lives in him, it's never touched children. "Then we hold that line."
"Finn, you're on mobile response," I continue. "Wherever the breakthrough happens first, you reinforce. Tessa coordinates from here—she'll track everyone's position and keep the communications running."
My sister's face appears in the doorway, laptop already in hand. Her blue eyes are sharp with focus. This is what she does best—seeing patterns, managing chaos, keeping her brothers alive.
"Go," she says. "I've got your backs."
The brotherhood scatters like wolves on the hunt.
