I nodded.
“Remember your training,” he spoke quickly. “I won’t leave your side, but this is going to get ugly.”
“It’s already ugly.”
Killian rolled his neck. “Then let’s make it worse.”
I shifted. Right there in the clearing, my bones cracked and realigned, and the moment my paws hit the dirt, I felt the soil of the Hollow answer. My wolf let out a snarl that rattled the trees, and it was echoed by dozens more. Not just Blueridge. Not just Stonefang.
Wolves loyal to their alpha. To us.
To this pack.
They ran to us, shifters ready to fight beside Killian and me, and I didn’t lead them with words.
We attacked.
Through the smoke, through the blood, through the howl of traitors and defenders alike. My claws tore through a body that lunged at me from the left. A familiar face—I didn’t care. He fell. He stayed down.
I heard Killian behind me, teeth snapping.
Felt Brand as he joined us, fury tearing through the ground as he took down two at once.
The battle was chaos—fur, blood, snarls, and flame—but I never stopped moving. I led from the front, from the heart. Every time one of ours faltered, I was there. Every time the line buckled, I held it. I was alpha by proxy, mate to Wolfe, but in that moment—I was more.
I was the Hollow’s fire.
The wolves who betrayed us fought like they had nothing to lose. We fought like we had everything.
The chaos had a rhythm now—blood and breath and instinct. I ducked a blow, spun, slashed. Killian’s howl tore through the clearing just before a wolf I didn’t recognize launched at my side.
I braced to take the hit. It never landed.
A blur of dark fur slammed into the attacker mid-air—an older wolf, thickset. The two of them rolled across the dirt in a snarling heap. I sprinted after them, claws digging in, ready to drag them apart—ready to finish it.
But the moment I reached them, it was already done.
The rogue’s body hit the ground with a sickening crack. The Stonefang wolf stumbled, blood gushing from a wound in his neck. He shifted—halfway—back to his human form, gasping.
I shifted and dropped to my knees beside him.
“No, no, no—stay with me,” I begged, pressing my hands to the wound. “Shift, please.”
His eyes found mine. Brown, glassy, burning with something fierce and raw. “Alpha Wolfe,” he said hoarsely, “tell him we follow.”
“You need to shift?—”
He gripped my forearm, blood slick between our skin. “My family…” He inhaled, his breath rattling. “Make sure they’re safe.”
Then he was gone.
Just like that.
I stared at him, my hands shaking. His blood on them. His body cooling. A Stonefang Pack wolf—mypack—had died to protect me. No hesitation. No doubt.
And I hadn’t even known his name.
A sob built in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t afford to break. Not now. Killian’s wolf roared in the distance. The fight wasn’t over. Not yet.
