Spencer's POVGamma Everly and I lead our warriors into battle. My group of warriors follows behind me, and Gamma Everly’s warriors follow her. We move swiftly and silently, eyeing the borders as the guards suddenly switch up and begin to relieve each other of their duties. The entire pack is bordered by a combination of ancient stone walls and wrought iron fencing that at a first glance appears impenetrable, but a closer look quickly betrays weaknesses. While the shift rotation seems coordinated and well-planned, any shift change is bound to reveal vulnerabilities, and theirs is no exception. We crouch low in the trees, anticipating the perfect moment to infiltrate. There. The guards move away from their posts for just a split-second. I gesture to Gamma Everly with my right hand: it’s go time. Quickly, easily, we breach the enemy pack’s borders. We could’ve fought our way through directly, sure, but that’s not the primary goal of our current operation. I’m keeping my focus on ou
Spencer's POV“Did you really capture her?”Elder Jet’s words make me pause for a moment, as my mind races into terrible speculation of what “her” he’s referring to. Could they have my mother, somehow? Sylvia? Or some other crucial player in the Lycan Royal Family’s court–Gamma Everly, perhaps, or any high-ranking noblewoman. For just a moment, I wonder if it’s Ivy, and a jolt of fear shoots through me. But that’s impossible. She’s back at the palace, safe and sound, with Beta Wilson there to protect her. I’ve taken every measure I could to make sure she’s being taken care of while I’m away. If Ivy was missing, I’d know. “Yes,” the young man replies. The sound of his voice brings be back to reality. “She’s in the pack house.”Before I can piece together who Elder Jet and his companion are referring to, I hear a distant clatter from the pack house. For just a moment, the world seems to stand on edge before tumbling into chaos. Suddenly, the sounds of combat catch my attention, scr
Spencer's POVI charge at Elder Jet with my claws extended and tackle him to the ground. Elder Jet huffs as his back hits the grass. In an instant, he shifts fluidly into his wolf form–a brown wolf with gray-speckled form–and manages to throw me off of him. I grunt as I land a couple paces away, already sprinting back towards him and ready to continue the fight. Although Elder Jet is old, it’s evident that he has extensive battle experience. He dodges and weaves through the swarm of fighting werewolves, seeming perfectly at peace in all the chaos and confusion. Every time I slash at him, he manages to duck away, grabbing a werewolf and using him as a human shield to absorb the blow. As my claws pierce a third werewolf warrior’s skin, I shake my head in disgust at Elder Jet’s deceitful tactics. “Stop hiding and fight me yourself!” I bellow at him, wiping the blood from my hands. “Look at these warriors that you’ve slaughtered!” Elder Jet shouts. I raise an eyebrow, tensing up and
Ivy's POVI want to tell Spencer to let me die, but if I do, I’ll doom us both. I find myself trembling as Alpha Jameson’s claws dig into my throat. My pulse sings against his claws, almost like a taunt. I can feel the skin stretched dangerously thin, so close to breaking I can feel my life balancing on a knife’s edge. I hate how vulnerable I am. I hate how vulnerable Spencer is because of it. If the situation were different, I’d lay down my life for him in a heartbeat. Everyone knows his life is immeasurably more valuable than mine. But I don’t even have the option of sacrificing myself for Spencer anymore. I understand the Blood Oath Ceremony well enough to know that our lives are bound together in such a way that if I were to die, Spencer would become a shell of himself–almost certainly dooming him to a quick death on the battlefield. I want to sob, but I’m terrified that moving will kill me instantly. Why do I always drag down the people I love? Why do I keep hurting them? Is
Ivy's POVEvery eye outside the pack house is locked onto Prince Spencer, breaths held in anticipation of his next move. Alpha Jameson grips me tighter, squeezing at my neck so hard my breath comes in strangled gasps. I can feel the tense fear in his stance. He’s well aware of the lines he crossed, the point of no return. He’s gone too far, and he knows it. No one has any idea what Spencer is about to do next. Standing a couple dozen meters away from Alpha Jameson and I, Spencer’s silhouette seems to melt into the night as though he’s made completely of shadows. His eyes pierce the darkness like blades, expression cold and inscrutable. With blood on his hands and that horrifying steely glint to his eye, he looks well deserving of his title as the God of Death. Everyone here should be afraid of what’s to come. “Ha!” Suddenly, Spencer lets out a disdainful laugh. Alpha Jameson jolts at the sound. His hand starts to tremble ever so slightly on my neck. As happy as I am to see Alp
Ivy's POVElder Jet quickly ducks behind Alpha Leo and several other werewolves like the coward he is. Still standing near Alpha Jameson, I follow Elder Jet’s movements with my eyes, bracing myself for whatever his next move is. Alpha Jameson–as I've already been able to ascertain–may be burly, but he also seems like something of an idiot. Elder Jet isn’t so dim-witted, though, and I’m afraid of what his retaliation may look like. He fixes his shrewd gaze on Spencer, eyeing him with caution. I can almost hear the gears whirring in his mind as he plots out his next angle, some other way to make Spencer look like the villain even as his own warriors threaten the very life of his mate. Suddenly, his eyes gleam with a menacing light. My stomach twists. “Prince Spencer showed our warriors that very same disdain the day he killed them!” Elder Jet shouts, cupping his palms around his mouth to project his voice. He speaks with the passion and fury of a luminary, but I can tell he doesn’
Ivy's POVAll I can do is watch helplessly as the werewolf warriors begin to shift. Their muscles swell rapidly, thick bands of sinew contorting unnaturally underneath their clothes and armor. As the werewolves shift into their wolf forms–now a horrifying mass of twisted muscle and matted fur–they expand to nearly the size of Lycans. The chilling sound of bones twisting and grinding fills the air as their skeletons grow to accommodate their newly bulked-up bodies. As I watch the transformations, fear flooding my body, scenes of the werewolves who’d chased me and Princess Sylvia earlier flash through my mind. I remember their mindless bloodlust, their utter lack of any reason or logic. I understand now that while these werewolves may gain immense strength under the influence of the potions, they pay a steep price: their sanity. The red potions aren’t any sort of so-called secret weapon. They’re a poison that will ultimately destroy any werewolf who consumes them from the inside out
Ivy's POVBy the time I look back at where I’d just been standing, Spencer has already been surrounded by werewolves. He’s locked in fierce, chaotic battle. Screams and howls flood my ears inescapably, and my nose fills with the bitter iron tang of blood. As I watch Spencer fight, though, my gaze suddenly drifts to the golden pillar, where Alpha Jameson is slowly struggling to his feet. Alpha Jameson looks like he’s in terrible shape–blood leaks freely from his mouth, and his jaw is bruised and clearly broken. The pain in his expression is both horrifying to see and impossible to miss. His eyes are dazed, suggesting a concussion, and the limb with which he walks makes me think he’s broken quite a few bones. His gaze fixates on Spencer, and I can see the burning loathing he’s harboring. He seems to be muttering something under his breath–curling swears and curses at Spencer, no doubt. He seems hell-bent on a revenge so vicious it makes my stomach churn. Suddenly, Alpha Jameson’s ga
Ivy’s POVWhile the scattered sounds of combat continue to fill the air, by and large, it seems that the battle has begun to come to a close. The last werewolf rebels are continuing to attack every Lycan warrior they see, but our enemy’s numbers have been considerably thinned. Now, the rebels are few and far between, sticking out like sore thumbs as they attempt to take down our ranks. It’s clear that we could still lose quite a few more lives at this point, but it would be meaningless. The battle has been won. It’s over. Anything else that happens now is just tying up the loose ends. “What happens now?” I ask Spencer softly, taking a look around. Wilson is still on the ground, writhing in agony as the silver spray continues to worm its way into his skin. My heart twinges with sympathy for him, but there’s nothing Spencer or I could do to alleviate the pain. Nearby, I can see Gamma Everly kneeling over Alpha Leo’s unconscious–hopefully unconscious, that is–body. Everywhere I look
Ivy’s POVI leap towards the witch without a moment’s hesitation. She lets out a shrill scream and tries to angle her antlers towards me. The side of one of the antlers cuts into my left arm, but it’s a shallow enough wound not to faze me, and I’m able to use the momentum against her and send her tumbling to the ground. The witch’s body is cold, uncannily so, and I can feel shivers starting to run through me as I press my paw against her throat. But the blood spilling from her severed hand is warm, and beneath all the strange magic etched into her being, she does seem to be alive. Which means she could, feasibly, be killed. “You’ll never get away with this!” The witch shrieks. Her voice seems to be going up to unnatural heights that I’m only able to hear due to my enhanced senses. “Jason is my son. You’ll never understand him like I could. He’ll never belong with you! You’re sentencing him to life as an outcast. Put your own cruelty and selfish wants aside for just one second. The
Spencer’s POVIvy and I exchange a single look, and it’s like we can read each other’s minds. Without even having to speak the words aloud, we turn away from Elder Jet’s corpse in unison and rush towards the ongoing scuffle. After having spent so long stuck on this battlefield together, and thanks to the months we’ve spent learning more and more about one another, strengthening our bonds, it feels like we’ve moved past typical forms of communication in so many ways. Ivy and I don’t need to tell each other our strategy–as I make my way behind the witch, and as Ivy swiftly leaps in front of her, I know what she’s trying to do. Ivy throws her body between the witch and Wilson. “Stay back!” She snarls, teeth snapping wickedly. Her snow white fur is streaked with blood, like berries crushed underfoot on a cold winter day. “Elder Jet is dead now. His cause is ruined. There’s nothing for you here.” “Foolish girl,” the witch rasps, extending her free hand and pointing one long finger towar
Ivy’s POVAs I scan the battlefield impatiently, doing my best to figure out where I could be the most helpful, all I can see is need. Spencer’s announcement on how to best take down the rebel werewolves has certainly been incredibly beneficial to the Lycan warriors. As I watch the battle continue to play out, the warriors are now employing tactics more or less reliant on grace or dexterity to make sure they can have the upper hand as much as possible. And while it’s encouraging to see the warriors continuing to make the best of the situation they’re in, adapting to the difficulties of such ruthless and magically enhanced opponents, there’s still so much death here. The Lycan warriors are getting more and more exhausted with each second that passes, and one side effect of those blasted potions seems to be enhanced stamina. Despite all our efforts to make sure the warriors have as much support as possible to do what they need to do and conclude this battle once and for all, we’re sti
Spencer’s POVThe skin of Elder Jet’s throat splits like silk beneath my claws. The last sound he ever makes is a small gasp, as though even after everything he’s said about accepting his fate, he’s still somehow surprised that I’d actually do it. For just a few moments, blood gushes liberally from the ragged wound in his throat–his weak heart pumping out blood with its last bits of strength. But as soon as his heart gives out, the blood flow stops its torrent. I raise my gaze back up to Elder Jet’s face. I want to feel something as I look over him–the wounds marring his features, his matted, stained fur, the glassy lifelessness in his eyes–but I don’t feel a thing. I pull away from Elder Jet slowly, staring at his corpse splayed out on the grass. This is the man who tried to kill me. Who tried to kill Ivy. Who succeeded in killing my father. He’s twisted and manipulated the minds of countless young werewolves, many of whom are no doubt dead thanks to him. Every action in his miser
Spencer’s POVWhen I see Elder Jet pinned beneath Ivy’s strong hold, the first thing I feel is pride. Over the course of knowing her, I’ve seen Ivy reclaim her own strength and power against all odds. When no one else believed in her, she believed in herself, and she’s been able to accomplish amazing things because of it. The sight of her now, able to so easily control such a powerful and influential man despite having been teetering on the verge of death so long ago… I’m so proud of her. I stalk towards Ivy and Elder Jet with a bold grin. “Thank you for taking care of him, Ivy,” I say. “Would you like me to handle things from here?” “It would be my pleasure,” Ivy replies. She strikes him across the face–just once, swiftly and harshly enough to open up a rather sizeable welt on his upper right cheek. As Elder Jet is still reeling from the blow, Ivy releases her hold on him and allows me to take her place. Before Elder Jet can even register the switch, I’ve got him firmly in my gr
Ivy’s POVThe sensation of Elder Jet’s skin tearing beneath my claws is one of the best things I’ve felt in a long, long time. Elder Jet lets out a sharp cry of pain as my claws rip into him. I can feel hot splashes of blood splattering up onto me, and I only curl my talons deeper. Elder Jet’s cry bleeds into a shout as I rip my paw back, tearing a ragged hunk of flesh out of his shoulder. “You,” Elder Jet snarls, looking up at me with an expression of profound loathing as he curls his lip at me and takes a step back. “Me,” I repeat with a smug grin, shaking the bits of viscera out of my claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly doing her best to limp away. Elder Jet doesn’t pay her any mind, though. His gaze is focused on me like a laser, and I can tell I’m his only focus right now. “You should be dead right now,” Elder Jet stammers out. His speech is already starting to slur from the blood loss. “After that potion we gave you, after the injuries, after–I killed
Ivy’s POVThe moment Spencer gets tossed back into the throes of battle, I know the final wave of combat has begun. I don’t waste a moment before shifting into my wolf form. I can feel the familiar surge of power rushing through my body. Every flex of my muscles, every arch and twist of my graceful limbs seems to be crackling with barely-restrained strength. My fur is as white as pure snow right now, but I know it’s only a matter of time before it becomes stained pomegranate red. My razor-sharp fangs, sharp as knives, are bared menacingly as I look around expectantly and grin. “None of you could kill me!” I shout, muzzle turned upwards towards the sky. I let out a victorious howl. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop me!” I pad back and forth, feeling the clots of dirt beneath my paws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can spot the wrought-iron cage that was used to hold me. I lunge towards it, a growl rumbling in the base of my throat, and twist its metal bars until the cage i
Spencer’s POVAs I rise to my feet, I can feel the full effects of the Moon Goddess’s blessing, and I feel much better than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s odd–ever since this whole fiasco with Elder Jet began, I’ve felt myself constantly on edge. There's been a strange underlying tension to my life. Everything I’ve done in my mad scramble to protect Ivy, every bad decision, every misguided sacrifice I’ve done… All my actions, whether they were right or now, were the result of trying to dodge invisible looming threats. The threat isn’t invisible anymore, though–now, it’s everywhere I look. But there’s a sense of relief to that. I can tell that Elder Jet is finally giving his all now. He’s played every last card he has left to play. And as scary as that may be, considering the magnitude of the threat I’m up against now, I can also feel my resolve building. This is it. The end of the line. The final surge. If we can defeat Elder Jet now, we’ll never have to deal with him or any of h