Zack’s POV
The mountain groaned under the weight of war. The corrupted Ancient Lycan loomed above us, its ichor-slick fur glinting with every pulse of its malignant energy. The ridge was fractured stone and ash, jagged fissures swallowing the weak, and yet retreat was not an option.
“Form on me!” I roared, claws tearing into the earth to anchor myself. My wolf surged beneath me, sinews tightening, eyes glowing gold. I could feel every pulse of the bond with Lilly, Sam, and Ashley—an unbroken chain of focus, fury, and resolve. We were the storm incarnate.
The first wave of reinforcements surged in—witches flaring bright with fire and frost, vampires leaping with lethal precision, and allied Lycans clawing their way through the debris. Every strike from them chipped at the corrupted Ancie
