Chapter 5: Into the Fire

The silence is oppressive. We're down a man, and we all missed where the ones are. Their senses heightened, their hunger for blood increased. And at this attack came from. A low snarl churns at our left, another at our right. They're closing in on us like wolves on a kill, ironic, as we are wolves. But they're alphas, corrupted point, we're sitting in their den.

“Hold formation!” I shout on pack coming, my heart pounding along with the thud of our footsteps on wet mud.

Suddenly, a dark blur slices through the trees. A spear flies, no, is thrown and pierces a warrior through the shoulder. He drops to a knee but doesn’t fall. Before I can react, two rogue alphas crash into the circle from opposite ends.

“Attack pattern Delta!” I shout.

The fighters shatter the formation with perfect discipline, flipping the circle upside down and closing in on the attackers. I jump into the melee, claws out, ripping at the alpha closest to me. He parries with a snarl, my strength met by his. He charges; I dodge, spinning mid-air and impaling my claws into his side. He screams.

In front of me, my dad is struggling. He’s fast, but this feral is unpredictable, unbalanced. Beta Jon’s sword even has blood on it as he’s fighting another feral rogue blow-for-blow. These aren’t feral rogues you can find on any street. These are trained.

Something isn’t right.

A roar interrupts the commotion, freezing everyone in mid-blow. It’s not human. It’s not a wolf. It’s something else.

Every set of eyes looks toward the origin. The underbrush separates, and a huge creature emerges into the clearing. He stands tall, at least eight feet high, with luminescent crimson eyes, twisted horns, and skin with more armor plating than human skin. Not a lone rogue alpha.

A mutant.

“Oh goddess…” someone gasps.

I don't hesitate. "Break formation! Fall back!" I shout, but it is too late.

The mutant charges, barreling through our warriors like they’re nothing. I launch myself at him, blades drawn, aiming for his throat. He swings his arm like a club. I block, but the force sends me flying into a tree. My bones scream. I drop to one knee.

A scream pierces the air. I look up in time to see Marco, no, Marco thrown across the field like a ragdoll. He’s coughing up blood, eyes wide in disbelief.

Martin rushes to his side. “Marco! Stay with me!”

“I’m fine. I think.” Marco grunts, obviously not fine.

We’re losing.

“I must change,” I whisper. My wolf, Luna, scratches at the corners of my thoughts, eager to assume command.

Let me out, she growls. We fight together.

I let go.

Fur erupts on my skin, my bones shift with a typical, groaning crack, and my paws hit the earth. Golden eyes flash by moonlight. My wolf is shorter than many, but faster, quicker. I dart at the mutant back and forth on the field. He has a bead on me, good. He sets himself to swat, but I leap, whirl on a pivot point within the air, and scrape across his face.

He howls in rage.

“You want war?!” I howl back, landing beside my father. “You’ll have it.”

He’s bleeding, but alive. He moves too- enormously, powerfully, his body looms over mine. We fight alongside each other, father and daughter, Alpha and heir.

But then,

A piercing cry interrupts my concentration.

My eyes flash about and stop.

Carlos.

Hiding behind trees. Observing. Not engaging. Not rescuing. And smiling.