Chapter 107

Dominic’s POV

Dawn comes in ugly, angry colors, like the sky’s got something to prove. It’s too red and still, bleeding out over the hills as if the world’s got a fresh cut. I’m standing on the ridge with Dante and Elora, all of us together for the first time since this mess kicked off. Smoke and blood filled the air. Somewhere behind me, the wolves are restless, their armor rattling.

“This is it,” Dante growls, barely above a mutter. His voice is wrecked, too many orders, not enough sleep. He shoots Elora a look. “Ain’t no backing out now.”

Elora doesn’t even blink. She just stares down at Mira’s banners... black and ugly, flapping like crows over the enemy lines. The wind tangles her hair around her face and, for a second, I almost forget we’re about to get torn apart.

She finally says something, soft enough that I’m not sure I heard it. “Let’s finish this.”

So we do.

It’s chaos. Wolves pour down the slope. Steel flashes. Screams come and go so fast that they are hardly heard. I’m slashing and biting, moving like something out of a nightmare. Claws rip through metal. Teeth find throats. Next to me, Dante’s yelling he’s a force, tossing aside Blood Fang soldiers like they’re nothing. Elora’s terrifying in her own way, so damn fast, so sure, leaving a trail of bodies with her blade.

We’re hell unleashed, the three of us, fire, rage, stubborn hope.

Mira’s best come at us, but they drop one after another. The last one, some mountain of a man in black armor, finds out the hard way that Dante’s not messing around. There’s a lot of noise, steel, yelling, and then Dante’s sword goes right through him. The guy chokes out Mira’s name and drops.

Elora’s standing there, breathing hard, blood on her face. The fortress burns behind her. Wolves are howling, but it’s not happiness, it’s something else. Just relief, maybe, or the kind of silence that comes when you can’t even process what you’ve survived.

It’s done.

Or, you know, that’s what I want to believe.

Elora goes tense, staring at the smoke. “Dominic…” she whispers.

I look. There, in the haze, is Mira, beat up, hair wild, but those eyes still burning. She’s not running. She’s just…watching us, like we’re a puzzle she’s almost solved.

She smiles. God, that smile. Used to make my wolf heart pound with fear and a little fascination.

“Don’t,” Elora hisses, grabbing my sleeve.

But I get it. Mira wants to be seen. She wants to make sure we know she’s not gone. Her voice comes drifting out, too calm. “You’ve only won the surface.”

And then she’s just not there anymore. Just her laugh, echoing out of the fog, sliding down my spine.

That sound stays with us. Way past the fighting, long after the flames die.

So I’m standing there, everything ruined and glowing red, and it hits me: war’s over, sure, but something worse is crawling up under the skin of the world.

The smoke thins out. The battlefield’s just mud and ash now, with a few wolves dragging wounded out of the place. Feels like the whole place is humming with exhaustion.

Dante’s standing by the fire, his arm bandaged, hair filthy, but there’s something lighter in his eyes. Maybe he’s actually proud. Or just in shock. Or both.

I walk over, boots crunching. He turns, gives me the kind of grin you only get after surviving the impossible.

“Not too shabby for a couple of dead guys,” he rasps, trying to be funny.

I snort. “You still fight like a maniac.”

“And you still sulk like one.”

I hug him quickly and clumsily. He smacks my back, and for a second it’s like the old days, before all this mess.

“We did it,” he says, voice low, looking at where the sunrise’s breaking through the smoke. “It’s over.”

I can’t help myself, I look at the horizon too. “Maybe. She’s still out there.”

He knows I mean Mira. His jaw clenches, but he nods. “Then we’ll be ready.”

We stand there a while, shoulder to shoulder, just watching the last of the fire burn out. The sky’s gone gold. Everything seems breakable, but maybe, just maybe, fixable if we want it badly enough.

Eventually, I turn and lower my voice. “Dante, there’s something I got to ask.”

He glances over, a little wary. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Elora.” Her name catches, gritty, way heavier than I meant. “Do you... actually care about her?”

This time, he doesn’t flinch or look away. The silence just drags out, thick enough to choke on. Then he nods. “Yeah.”

No hemming, no mumbling. Just flat-out honesty.

I stare at him, he’s a mess, blood on his face, exhausted as hell, but he’s not wavering. Weird thing is, I can’t even bring myself to hate him for it. There’s this look in his eyes, and yeah, I’ve seen it staring back from my own face every time she’s around.

He catches my eye. “Didn’t plan any of this,” he says, voice low. “It just... happened. She makes me wanna be the kind of guy she could actually count on.”

I let out this slow breath, watching the last of the light crawl over everything. “Yeah. She does that.”

Neither of us says a word for a long minute. Just the fire popping somewhere and people off in the distance, finding each other, crying or laughing or whatever. Then Dante puts a hand on my shoulder.

“She’s not just your problem anymore,” he says. “You get that, right?”

My wolf... God, that restless part of me wants to snarl, deny it, tear something up. But, hell, I know he’s right. Elora’s heart? Nobody’s ever owned that.

I nod, sharp. “Then you better look after her.”

He gives me this tiny smile, tired but real. “Always.”

Sun’s climbing, battlefield’s all gold and ruined. Something shifts between us. Not enemies, not exactly friends. Just... we get it.

The war’s done. But, honestly? Whatever’s coming next, yeah, that’s gonna be a whole different fight.