Before I can answer, a scout races into the clearing. “They’re here! Surrounding the north quadrant!”
Zane grips my arm. “Get to safety with the elders and cubs.”
“No.” I pull free. “I can fight.”
“This isn’t your battle.”
“It became my battle when they violated the peace talks.” I hold his gaze. “Besides, I’m faster than any of your wolves.”
A hint of a smile touches his lips. “Debatable.”
Then the first shots ring out, and conversation becomes impossible. We move in opposite directions—Zane toward the northern perimeter, while I make my way toward the eastern edge, where I detect multiple attackers.
I transform again to panther form, the borrowed dress falling away. The night erupts with chaos—gunshots, war cries, snarling wolves.
Three settlers break through the tree line ahead of me, rifles aimed at the camp. I launch myself at the nearest one, knocking him flat. His rifle fires harmlessly skyward as I rake my claws across his chest, deep enough to incapacitate but not kill.
The other two turn their weapons toward me. I spring between them, faster than they can track, taking down the second attacker with a swipe to the leg. The third fires a shot that grazes my flank before I’m upon him, sinking my teeth into his arm.
I feel a sharp, piercing pain in my side from the silver bullet, but I push through it, neutralizing my third opponent.
More attackers emerge from the trees. I engage them one after another, disabling rather than killing. Moving through the shadows, I strike and retreat, sowing confusion in their ranks.
From across the camp, I hear Zane’s fierce howl as he leads his warriors against the main assault. The sound awakens something primal and protective within me.
These wolves belong to my mate. I’m defending my mate’s homeland.
The thought startles me even as it drives me forward with renewed determination. I disable two more attackers, then sprint toward the sound of Zane’s battle.
I find him surrounded by four settlers wielding silver blades. Even in his massive wolf form, he struggles against the poisonous metal. Without hesitation, I join the fight, fire crackling along my fur as my panther abilities manifest fully.
We fight together with surprising coordination. He lunges left while I cover his right. I draw attackers forward as he strikes from behind. We coordinate without words or conscious thought—two apex predators in perfect harmony.
Within minutes, the attack falters. The remaining settlers, recognizing their defeat, begin to retreat. I pursue two of them, attempting to escape with loaded weapons, leaving them disarmed and wounded but alive.
When I return to the central clearing, the battle has ended. Injured wolves receive treatment, while captured settlers lie bound and guarded. The warning arrived just in time to prevent catastrophe.
I limp toward Zane, who directs the cleanup. A gash on his shoulder bleeds heavily—silver damage that will heal slowly.
He turns as I approach, his expression showing concern at my injured state. I transform back to human form, feeling slightly unsteady from the effort.
“You’re hurt,” he says, moving to support me.
“Silver grazing wound. Nothing serious.” I find myself leaning against him despite my intentions. “Your shoulder looks worse.”
“It will heal.” He wraps his arm around my waist. “You fought... impressively.”
“So did you.”
Around us, the pack observes our interaction with obvious curiosity. I should create distance and maintain our agreed professional boundaries. Instead, I turn toward him, resting my head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.
“You came to warn us,” he murmurs softly, for my ears alone. “You fought for my pack.”
“I couldn’t let them attack you.” The truth escapes before I can filter it.
His hand cups the back of my neck, and I feel an electric sensation course through my entire body. I look up at him and recognize the same conflict in his expression—duty versus desire, responsibility versus instinct.
For one breathless moment, I think he might kiss me. I think I might welcome it.
