Chapter 41:
I gritted my teeth, driving my claws through a rogue that had gotten too close.
“We hold the line until Dante gives the signal!” I shouted.
“If we retreat now, we lose everything.”
Osric glanced at me, his jaw tight, but he nodded. His faith in me, even now, was a steadying force against the chaos. A sharp, desperate howl rose above the noise of the battle, freezing me in place. It was faint, carried on the wind from the south, but it hit like a punch to the chest. Dante. The southern flank.
“They’re in trouble,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, though Osric heard me.
His expression hardened.
“Then we finish this here and now.”
I nodded, determination surging through me as we surged forward together, driving the rogues back with renewed ferocity. My claws tore through one after another, my focus narrowing to the singular goal of ending this fight. But even as we gained ground, my mind was on the southern border.
And then I saw him.
Silas stood on the edge of the treeline, his gaze locked on me. He didn’t move, didn’t fight. He just stood there, watching, directing his wolves with cold precision. His presence was a cold reminder of the real enemy, the one who wasn’t just trying to win this battle but to break us entirely.
“Elara!” he called, his voice cutting through the sounds of battle like a blade.
“How many more will you lose before you realize this fight is over?”
My chest tightened, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. I didn’t respond, focusing instead on the rogue lunging toward me. I sidestepped its attack, my claws slicing through its side in one fluid motion. It collapsed with a whimper, and I turned back to Silas, baring my teeth.
“This fight isn’t over until you’re gone,” I snarled, my voice filled with the kind of fury I had learned to wield as a weapon.
Silas smiled, slow and predatory, his teeth glinting in the dim light.
“We’ll see,” he said, disappearing into the shadows as his wolves pressed forward again.
Merris’s POV
Blood slicked my fur as I scrambled through the underbrush, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The younger wolves followed close behind me, their fear palpable, but their determination shining through. We can’t let the line break. Not here. Not now.
Toren appeared beside me, his face set in grim determination.
“They’re circling around us,” he said, his voice low and urgent.
“If we don’t move, they’ll cut us off completely.”
“Then we hold them here,” I replied, the weight of my past betrayal heavy on my chest. I owe them this. I owe them everything.
The rogues came at us again, their snarls ripping through the night. Toren and I fought side by side, our movements a coordinated rhythm of claws and teeth. The younger wolves rallied around us, their strikes becoming sharper, more deliberate. We were holding. For now.
And then I saw him.
Silas’s second-in-command stepped into the clearing, his massive frame silhouetted against the moonlight. A long scar ran the length of his muzzle, and his eyes locked onto mine with cold fury.
“You’re the traitor,” he said, his voice low and menacing.
“I hope it was worth it.”
I didn’t hesitate. No words. No excuses. I lunged at him with every ounce of strength I had, my claws aimed for his throat. Our bodies collided, and the fight began in earnest.
Elara’s POV
The eastern flank was secure—for now—but the desperate howls from the southern border echoed in my ears. I couldn’t wait any longer.
