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Chapter 82
The first warning siren sounded at five o’clock in the morning. Lorenzo and Arla sprang from the bed as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains. They quickly dressed in the first clothes they could find, listening to the sounds of frantic movement below them in the house.
“Alpha, incoming, approaching the western border. Forest is ablaze. There are too few of them for it to be the full attack,” came the mind-link from Eli.
“Probably a diversion, only send enough teams to cover it.”
“Yes, Alpha. I’ll keep you updated.”
Lorenzo relayed the message to Arla as he pulled the curtains open and saw the smoke rising in the distance. He could feel the adrenaline begin to flow in preparation for battle. The responsibility on his shoulders felt immense.
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As they forged deeper into the forest, they finally spotted Alpha Anton, standing in human form and surrounded by witches, only a handful of whom Arla recognised. Where did he find these witches, and where are Sadie and Victor? Were they punished for my escape? The thought made her stomach churn violently, and her mind raced. The sound of Marcel pulled from her thoughts as he unleashed a loud, primal, Alpha howl. Marcel shook his head in confusion, turning to see the wolves from his own pack, along with Alpha Dominic and Alpha Roman, also submitting. Arla and Alpha Anton’s army were the only wolves seemingly unphased by it. “You issued a fucking Alpha King comm
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Arabella stalked her prey silently, creeping further out of sight. With teeth bared, she saw her opportunity and took it. Arabella flew gracefully through the air, her attention focused squarely on the neck of the white wolf whose back was to her. Her sharp teeth pierced Maeve’s skin like needles and the white wolf yelped in both surprise and pain. Arabella’s paws had barely made contact with the ground when she felt an intense pain tear through her body. It started at her neck, causing her to open her jaw in reflex, releasing Maeve, who backed away. The pain quickly radiated throughout her whole body as she was flung forcefully to the ground. Violet felt weak, her connection to Arabella fading, and when Arabella glanced at her paws, Violet saw she was lying in a pool of dark crimson blood.
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Arla entered the bathroom, stripping off her borrowed clothes and running the hottest shower she could tolerate. Stepping into the stream, she lathered up her body wash, watching the dried blood and dirt slide down her body and into the drain. She became lost in her thoughts as snippets of the battle replayed in her mind - the evil look in Alpha Anton’s eyes, her fear for Lorenzo and her pack, the strength and power she felt when she used the mate-bond, Maeve’s pain as teeth sank into her neck…” She screamed as she was pulled from her thoughts by a pair of muscular arms around her waist. “Sorry, sorry, I thought you heard me come in,” Lorenzo soothed, holding her close. “Drew! Violet! Lorenzo, we need to inform her dad,” she struggled against him, her fac
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Chaos. The sound of jaws snapping. Snarling. Screaming. Arla’s parents had warned her to stay home and lock the doors while they left to help defend their pack, but as the clock ticked, the worry within her increased. She paced the living room and craned her neck to try to see anything out of the windows, but all she could see in every direction was forest. The Apostle Ridge Pack, run by Alpha Anton, was a small pack by werewolf standards. Their remote territory sat nestled in deep, dense forest, giving the wolves the freedom to exercise and hunt undetected by humans. But right now, that isolation had fear prickling her skin, goosebumps rising, and her body jittery until she could no longer stay put. She knew her parents would be in the thick of the action. Her dad, Horace, was the pack’s Beta and was
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Arla woke with a gurgled scream, gasping as her eyes darted manically. Her bedroom. Another dream. There were so many horrors that she witnessed that day, yet she couldn’t understand why it was the green-eyed witch who had kept visiting her in her dreams - nightmares - each night for the past two months. The witch’s light green eyes had looked at her as though she knew something and saw something no one else could. She also couldn’t forget the way her skin had tingled, like goosebumps without the bumps. She didn’t think the witch wanted to harm her. If she’d wanted to, she could have struck her down easily, but Arla never felt as though she were in danger. She had an overwhelming urge to seek her out, but knew a twelve-year-old girl would not get far on her own, and no sane witch would venture anywhere near
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Esther’s blood turned to ice. Two days. Two days was all it had taken for him to find them. Beta Wesley crossed the road, heading towards her. She dropped the shopping bag, grabbed Arla’s hand and ran. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him in pursuit and made a blind turn down an alleyway. Despair shot through Esther as she took in her surroundings and realised the alley was a dead end. The red brick wall of a building was on her left, high wooden fences lined the right-hand side and the back, and a small silver hatchback car was parked halfway down in the centre of the road. “Arla, run and find somewhere to hide, sweetie,” she said, watching as Arla scurried underneath the silver car. “Esther, don’t fight,” said Beta Wesley softly. “You know yo
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