The Millennium Wolves 2 Novels & Stories

“Rafael… Rafael’s army has arrived.” Killian’s forces tried to regroup, but before they could, another wave of wolves appeared. This time, they came from the south. Leading them was a massive red wolf, its fur blazing like fire under the bright sun. The wolf stood on a rocky outcrop, her stance commanding as she let out a powerful howl. The sound echoed across the battlefield, sharp and clear, like a command. Half of Killian's army froze at that, their movements stopping as if held by invisible chains. She howled again, louder this time, and something incredible happened—the warriors turned toward her. Slowly, they bowed, then, without hesitation, rushed to join her side.

“Perimeter breach, northwest corner. Three signatures—wolves, inbound.” “On it,” I growl, signaling Ruth. We sprint, boots silent on the grass, the mansion looming like a dark sentinel. The air shifts—fur, sweat, the copper bite of intent. They’re here, testing us. I shift partial, claws extending, eyes sharpening. One wolf lunges from the shadows, jaws snapping; I meet him mid-air, slamming him into the fence with a crunch. Ruth takes the second, her snarl echoing; Marco grapples the third, silver blade flashing.

Bile rises in my throat, and I race to the bathroom, releasing the stale bread and old meat I had for breakfast this morning into my lopsided toilet. Pain ripples through me with each dry heave. I’m empty. Nothing left to come up, but the convulsions don’t stop for a few seconds more. Tears burn in my eyes as I cling helplessly to the bathroom wall, digging my nails into the cheap linoleum tiles. “It’s okay, Kay. Let me take over. Just rest and let go.” I can’t. I want to, but letting Milla take over would only worsen matters. When I shift… it draws attention. The other wolves of River Crest are light brown, honey, or reddish in color. They are of average size and build. But Milla?

Roman fought like a man possessed, his movements precise and brutal, dropping one wolf after another, but they kept getting back up like pain meant nothing to them. “Milo!” I shouted. He was already digging something out of his coat — a small glass vial glowing faintly blue. He smashed it on the ground, and a wave of sharp, metallic scent hit the air. The wolves recoiled instantly, snarling, their eyes flaring brighter. “Won’t hold ‘em long!” Milo yelled. The child-thing’s face twisted into something monstrous, all teeth and black eyes. “You shouldn’t have come.” Roman didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance in two strides and drove his blade straight into its chest.

Her call is an echo on the wind, a summons to battle that cannot be ignored. Beside her appears a pair of wolves, Aoron and Eta. They connect with the werewolves, seeking compatible partners amidst the pack. Together, they unleash a powerful howl and charge towards the Drider. They attack from all directions, their claws and teeth deadly weapons that tear and rend. Gradually, they manage to break all the Drider's legs, incapacitating it.

Her voice was quiet, but heavy. “The wolves of the Eclipse.” Luka frowned. “What about them?” She lifted her gaze, and for the first time since waking, she looked truly, deeply unnerved. “According to this,” she murmured, “they weren’t just wolves.” She slowly turned the book around, revealing an aged illustration. Two wolves stood beneath an eclipsed moon—one black, one white. Tangled together. Bound. She took a slow breath. “They were more than mates.” Theoden’s jaw clenched.

Chapter 114: The morning’s light broke over the battlefield with a fierce intensity, as if the sun itself had risen to witness the final act of this bitter conflict. The Blue Moon Pack’s defenses, though battered by the relentless assaults of the exiled werewolves, still held firm. Every wolf was on high alert, hearts pounding in unison as the enemy’s forces began to press their advantage in a desperate bid for victory. The air was charged with the electric mix of adrenaline and grief—a solemn promise that every sacrifice made would lead to redemption.

“You could end it, you know. Pick a winner. Let them live.” I snort. If only it were that easy. “Find me one who can last past the third sunrise, and maybe I’ll consider it.” Her presence flickers in front of me, like a whisp of smoke. “You’ve gone soft. I can smell it on you.” “Must be your imagination. The only thing soft here is the ground after the corpses hit it.” She chuckles and fades, leaving the back of my skull blessedly empty. I straighten, scanning the new arrivals. A witch crying into her hands. Two wolves are already posturing for dominance. A human, brave or stupid, probably both, trying to look like she belongs. Typical.

I laughed as he jumped at me again, and I grabbed him by his leg and tossed him to the ground. "I remember this one time, the two of you decided that you wanted to beat on this one pack wolf. See, he was weak at the time because his wolf had tucked themselves away. What you didn't expect after you tossed him from that cliff and down into the gorge, was for him to come back to life." I moved toward the wolf, aware of another coming up behind me. While the murderer before me was climbing to his feet, I quickly spun around and snapped the neck of the other wolf who had just joined us.

Mj closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment, trying to listen as Mack and Marco looked at one another skeptically, the swamp wolves watched Azreal walk past them as he studied Mj before they too finally joined. After holding their breath and listening to the weak and quiet croaking sound of an exhausted wolf’s cry trickle into their inner ear and without waiting for instruction, the twins grabbed at one another and ran toward the darkness. A/N Who do you think the LaFlare twins went after? Dont forget to join us in the Legacy Dome, keep up on the latest Legacy news and meet the growing pack, happy reading and as always Thank You for the support