118 | A LOSING GAME

Enzo’s POV

We were pushed back further and further. I was the last one standing in the doorway, using my huge wolven body to block out the attacking army. Though we were fighting a losing battle, I was proud of my wolves. We’d kept Ryker’s pets at bay far longer than I’d thought we’d ever had any hope of doing. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, brushing the tips of the massacred pine trees, burnishing their bottle-green needles a deep, glittering gold.

It also shone on the pools of blood. The ground was soaked in it, rivulets running down the slight hillock upon which the pack house stood. Bodies of wolves broke its streams; my wolves, Ryker’s wolves. They were clawed and bitten, missing limbs, missing chunks of fur and flesh. Such violence would stain the land here forever.

But worse still than the gore and the sightless eyes of my fallen warriors was the gnawing worry about my mate. I hadn’t seen Scar since she’d run into the crowd. Unable to mindlink her, I was left drowning in