Chapter 4 -The Battle
689 Words
Three hours into the battle, I laugh.
Dylan had warned me they’d be bigger, stronger, more skilled.
Ha!
Maybe bigger, but definitely not more skilled.
I’ve taken down over thirty on my own so far, and I’m not even tired, even though it’s nearly midnight and the enemy just keeps coming. And coming. And coming...
Jumping over two wolves locked in a furious fight, I land on a slick rock, wobble for half a second, then push upward, scrambling toward the cliffside. If I can get to the top, maybe I’ll finally see where the hell they’re all pouring in from.
A massive gray wolf leaps at me from the side. I crouch, ready to duck, only for him to get slammed sideways, tumbling to the ground with a yelp.
Dylan’s wolf lands smoothly beside me.
“No need to thank me.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
“I just saved you.”
“Um, no. You didn’t. I had that under control.”
“Seemed like it.”
“Go help someone who actually needs it.”
His eyes flash. “Where are you going?”
“Up. To see what we’re dealing with. There’s got to be some kind of entry point. If I can find it, we can end this already.”
“Not a terrible idea.” His superior tone is maddening. “Let me know what you find.”
I grunt and keep climbing.
The cliff is jagged, sharp beneath my paws, but I push harder until I reach the top. Squinting into the darkness, I scan the battlefield below, desperate to find where the endless stream of enemies is spilling from.
“See anything?”
“Not yet…”
Then it hits me.
Hard.
So hard my knees buckle, and I almost pitch off the edge. The world spins, tilting as though I’ve been drinking.
That scent.
My stomach lurches. My pulse races.
It must be after midnight. Which means I’m eighteen. Which means...
My mate is here.
Somewhere.
Hell, that was fast.
Maybe it’s someone from my pack. Maybe a Slayer. Maybe…god forbid…an enemy about to have his throat ripped out.
My heart hammers. Terrible timing. Worst timing. But I can’t ignore it. I have to at least try to see who it is...
I stagger toward the cliff’s edge, searching, when the scent swirls stronger, wrapping around me, pulling me like gravity itself.
And then a familiar wolf pulls himself up beside me.
My breath catches.
“No…”
No. No freaking way.
It can’t be—
“s**t, Jo,” Dylan mutters, eyes locked on mine.
“No.”
I shake my head hard in denial, stumbling back a step, snarling. “No. No way. You cannot be my mate. No. f*****g. Way.”
He takes a step closer, jaw tight. “You think I want this? You think I wanted my mate to be some scrawny, spoiled brat who thinks she’s better than everyone?”
A growl rips from me. “I am not a scrawny, spoiled brat, you arrogant son of a b***h!”
The cliff trembles under my paws as I pace backward, desperate for distance. I can’t be near him. I won’t.
“Just chill the f**k out, Jo,” Dylan snaps. “We’ll deal with this later. For now, we finish the fight.”
He jerks his head back toward the raging battle. But every step he takes toward me makes my chest clench tighter, makes me want to leap off the cliff rather than admit this bond is real.
No. My parents would celebrate. They’d see it as fate. As perfect. As inevitable.
I can’t let that happen.
“There isn’t anything to deal with!” I snarl. “I, Jolena of the Rushing Waves Pack—ahhh!”
The ground crumbles beneath me. My paws slip on loose rock, and suddenly there’s nothing under me but air.
Dylan lunges, teeth snapping at empty space as I plummet. His scream echoes in my skull, raw and desperate.
Pain explodes through me, so sharp it feels borrowed, not even mine.
Then everything goes black.
- Writer
