Page 70 of Wolf of the Storm
A hand grips my arm. Jax, pressing something cold into my palm. His silver knife. The one he used during the trials.
"I won't need it where we're going, but you might. Silver and salt—double protection."
I look up at the brother who once hated me, who attacked me, who now watches my back like I'm pack. "Jax...”
"Don't get mushy on me, journalist." But his grey eyes are warm. "Just don't die. Declan would never forgive me."
By sunset, we march.
Sixty shifters move through the twilight, their forms differentiating between human and beast. Some stay human to carry weapons. Others shift early, letting their animal instincts sharpen their senses for what's coming.
Grayson leads one flank in his bear form—massive and implacable. Every step shakes the ground slightly. Kian despite his injuries, limps along in his tiger form, orange and black stripes rippling with coiled power. He refused to stay behind, refused to let his broken leg keep him from this fight. Rafe walks beside him, ready to assist and protect him if needed.
I glimpse Finn overhead in dragon form, his crimson scales gleaming in the fading light. Jax stalks near the front as a grey wolf, eyes constantly scanning for threats.
And me, a turned human, armed with salt-magic and silver. Walking beside the Storm Alpha as his mate and equal.
Declan hasn't let go of my hand since we left Clifftop House. Even when he removes his clothes to shift briefly to test his connection to the storm. When he shifts back and pulls on his clothing again, his fingers find mine immediately. Everythinghe's feeling bleeds into me—determination, fury, love so fierce it steals my breath, and underneath it all, that persistent thread of concern.
Not for himself. Never for himself. For me.
"I can hear you worrying," I murmur as we crest a hill and see the standing stones come into view.
"I'm not worrying. I'm strategizing."
"You're worrying."
His hand tightens on mine. "Maybe a little."
The stones rise before us like sentinels, their surfaces dark against the dying light. Connor's message is still there, carved and dried to brown. The air feels thick here, heavy with something I can't quite name. Magic, maybe. Or just the weight of what's about to happen.
I can feel the convergence point even from here, a pulse of power that makes my teeth ache. My wolf snarls warnings I can barely suppress. Everything about this place screams wrong. Dangerous. Death.
"We can still run," Declan says quietly, though we both know we won't. "I could get you off this island right now. We'd have maybe three hours before...”
"Before innocent people start dying." I squeeze his hand. "Before Connor wins. Before everything you've fought to protect turns to ash." I stop walking, turn to face him. "I'm not running, Declan. Not from this. Not from him. Not ever."
He cups my face in his hands, his storm-grey eyes searching mine. "You're the bravest person I've ever met. And the most stubborn."
"I learned from the best." I rise on my toes to kiss him, soft and quick. "Now let's go kill this bastard and save our island."
"Our island," he repeats, something fierce and possessive lighting in his eyes. "I like the sound of that."
We climb the way up the rest of the hill together, sixty shifters at our backs, the mate bond thrumming between us like a second heartbeat. The stones loom larger with every step. I can see movement now at the center of the circle—wolves pacing, waiting.
Connor waits at the center of the circle with perhaps twenty wolves at his back. Fewer than I expected. Many must have defected.
But the ones who stayed look fanatical. Eager. Like they're waiting for salvation instead of slaughter.
"MacRae!" Connor's voice rings out across the stones. "You actually came. I'm impressed. And you brought an army."
"I brought my pack." Declan's voice is steady. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" Connor smiles, but there's madness in his eyes now. The careful politician is gone, replaced by something desperate and dangerous. "Last chance, Declan. Stand aside. Let the old world return. The Fomori aren't monsters—they're our ancestors, our heritage. They'll restore the natural order, bring back true power. Or you can watch everyone you love die trying to preserve a broken system that's turned us into shadows of what we should be."
"The only broken thing here is you." Declan's voice drops to a growl. Around him, the air begins to crackle with electricity. Storm clouds gather overhead despite the clear sunset. "You've murdered innocents. Sacrificed the helpless. Betrayed everything our people stand for. There's no redemption for you, Connor. Only justice."
"Justice?" Connor laughs. "There's no such thing. Only power and those too weak to take it."
