Lira Kane's hands pressed against Zane Blackwood's bleeding chest,
her fingers slick with his blood as the cloaked figure's words echoed in the
shattered outpost: "The witch is mine." The air crackled with that unnatural
hum, the broken door framing the figure's glinting eyes and silver blade.
Zane's gold eyes flickered, weak but fierce, as he gripped her wrist, their
strange blue glow pulsing between them. Lira's curse burned in her chest, her
latest vision—her mother's face, a bloody symbol, and a voice saying, "The
blood binds you"—making her skin crawl. Mira cowered behind the firepit, her
sobs drowned by rogue howls outside, and Cassian Drake clutched his slashed
arm, blade ready despite his wounds.
"Get up, Blackwood," Lira whispered, fear sharpening her voice.
Her wounds—claw marks on her arm, leg, shoulder, and back—throbbed, but losing
Zane felt worse. Her curse hummed, tying her to him in ways she didn't
understand, and it scared her more than the cloaked figure.
Zane's growl was faint but stubborn. "Not… done yet." He staggered
up, leaning on her, blood dripping. His heat pressed against her, and Lira's
heart raced, their glow flaring brighter. Cassian stepped forward, blade
raised, eyes on the figure. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, voice steady
despite his pain.
The figure's laugh was cold, like ice cracking. "The witch's blood
calls the eclipse," it hissed, blade gleaming. "Step aside, wolf, or die."
Lira's curse flared, her vision blurring—her mother's scream, the
bloody symbol, and a shadow swallowing Silver Hollow. She pushed Zane behind
her, magic sparking despite her blood loss. "You want me?" she snapped,
gripping a dagger from the floor. "Come get me."
The figure lunged, blade slashing. Lira dove, rolling through
debris, pain screaming in her wounds. She blasted a firebolt, weak but enough
to graze the figure's cloak, singeing it. Zane roared, shoving her aside, and
took the blade's slash across his arm, blood spraying. He tackled the figure,
claws tearing its cloak, but it twisted free, vanishing into the fog outside
with a laugh.
"Damn it, Zane!" Lira yelled, scrambling to him. His arm bled, but
his eyes burned gold, locking on hers. Their glow pulsed, and her breath
caught, the air thick with something she couldn't name—hate, need, or both.
"Stop playing hero, Kane," he growled, clutching his arm. "You'll
get us killed."
"You're one to talk," she shot back, heart pounding. "You're
bleeding out for me."
His jaw ticked, eyes softening for a split second. "Don't read
into it, witch."
Cassian kicked the broken door, peering into the fog. "It's gone,
but rogues are circling. We can't stay." His calm voice hid his pain, blood
soaking his sleeve.
Mira whimpered, and Lira knelt beside her, squeezing her hand.
"We're getting out," she said, voice firm despite her fear. Mira nodded, her
pale face streaked with dirt, and Lira's guilt stabbed deep—Mira didn't deserve
this nightmare.
Zane grabbed a spear, his bloody hands steady. "West trail. Leads
to pack camp. Move." He glanced at Lira, eyes hard but protective. "Stay close,
Kane. No hero crap."
Lira's sarcasm flared. "Worried about me, Alpha? I'm touched."
His growl was half-laugh. "Keep dreaming."
They stumbled into the fog, Cassian leading, Zane guarding the
rear. Lira supported Mira, her wounds burning, magic flickering like a dying
candle. The hum followed, low and menacing, and rogue howls closed in. Lira's
curse pulsed, her vision flashing—the symbol, blood, and a woman's voice, not
her mother's: "The pack falls."
The trail narrowed, trees clawing their faces, and the hum spiked,
the ground shaking. "Trap!" Cassian shouted, as silver nets dropped from the
branches, glinting with thorns. Lira shoved Mira down, dodging a net, but one
snagged her leg, thorns slicing deep. She hissed, blood pooling, and Zane
slashed the net, silver burning his claws. His growl was pain-filled, but he
freed her, his hands sparking blue as they brushed her skin.
"Move!" he roared, pulling her up. Their glow flared, and Lira's
pulse raced, her curse humming. His eyes met hers, fierce and raw, and for a
moment, the world was just them—blood, pain, and something unstoppable.
Rogues burst from the fog—eight, their fur slick with blood, eyes
wild. Cassian met the first, his blade slashing its throat, but two tackled
him, claws raking his side. Zane charged, spear piercing a rogue's chest, but
three piled on him, fangs snapping. Lira blasted a firebolt, hitting a rogue's
face, and stabbed another with her dagger, blood spraying. Mira screamed,
dodging a rogue, and Lira tackled it, driving her dagger into its leg.
Zane roared, throwing off his rogues, but a new figure emerged
from the fog—Seraphina Voss, Zane's beta, her sleek blond hair tied back, claws
out. Her green eyes glinted, cold and sharp, as she surveyed the chaos. "Zane,"
she purred, voice like venom. "You're a mess."
Lira's stomach dropped. Seraphina hated her—had since Lira's magic
killed Zane's brother. "What the hell are you doing here?" Lira snapped,
standing over Mira, dagger ready.
Seraphina's smile was a blade. "Protecting my pack. You're the
problem, witch." She glanced at Zane, her gaze possessive. "She's a curse,
Zane. Let the rogues have her."
Zane's growl shook the air, his body stepping between Lira and
Seraphina. "Back off, Sera. She's with me."
Lira's heart skipped, his words hitting harder than they should.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, and Lira saw it—jealousy, raw and dangerous. "You're
picking her over the pack?" Seraphina hissed, claws flexing. "She'll destroy
us."
"Enough!" Zane roared, blood dripping. "Help or get out."
Seraphina smirked, but her eyes promised trouble. She slashed a
rogue, her claws precise, but Lira didn't trust her. The hum spiked, and the
red-eyed creature's laugh echoed, closer. Lira's curse flared, her vision
blurring—the symbol, blood, and Seraphina's face, twisted with hate.
"It's here!" Lira yelled, as the creature charged from the fog,
flanked by four shadows. Zane met it, spear piercing its side, but it swiped,
tearing his chest. Lira blasted a firebolt, hitting a shadow, but Seraphina
grabbed her arm, claws digging in.
"You don't belong," Seraphina hissed, shoving Lira toward a
shadow. Its claws slashed, grazing her side, and Lira screamed, stabbing her
dagger into its hide. She spun, blasting a firebolt at Seraphina, who dodged,
laughing.
"Traitor!" Lira yelled, but Zane tackled the creature, his roar
drowning her words. Cassian fought off two shadows, blood gushing, and Mira hid
behind a tree, sobbing. Lira's magic flickered, her vision flashing—Seraphina's
smirk, the bloody symbol, and a voice: "The pack betrays."
The creature flung Zane into a tree, wood splintering, and Lira
ran to him, heart pounding. "Get up, Blackwood!" she yelled, pressing his
chest, blood soaking her. Their glow flared, brighter, and his eyes opened,
gold and fierce. "You're not dying on me," she said, voice breaking.
"Keep yelling, witch," he rasped, grabbing her hand. The glow
burned, their pulses syncing, and Lira's breath caught, their faces inches
apart. His scent—pine, blood—filled her, and her curse hummed, urging her
closer. His eyes darkened, like he felt it too, and for a moment, hate was
gone, replaced by something raw, electric.
Seraphina's growl snapped them apart. "Pathetic," she spat, claws
slashing a shadow. But her eyes locked on Lira, promising pain.
The creature's laugh echoed, retreating with its shadows, but the
hum spiked, the air cracking. Lira's vision flashed—the symbol, blood, and a
new face: Julian Shade, her vampire ex-ally, his smirk cold. The outpost trail
shook, and a new wave of rogues charged, led by a cloaked figure, its silver
blade raised.
"Zane!" Lira yelled, pulling him up, their glow pulsing. The
figure's eyes glinted, and a voice—Julian's—whispered through the fog: "The
witch's blood is mine."