To Break a Wolf

Chapter 17: The Power Within

Mira had only meant to clear her head.

She’d only needed a breath, a moment by herself. Somewhere quiet where she could hear her own thoughts instead of everyone else’s, but the forest had other plans.

Somewhere between the first sigh of pine-scented air and the moment the trees swallowed the last traces of moonlight, Mira realized she’d ventured too far. The path behind her had vanished, swallowed whole by shadow and knotted roots. She turned in a slow circle, searching for a familiar tree, a worn trail, anything, but all she could pick out were silhouettes of bark and branches and too much dark.

It was quieter here. Too quiet.

No squirrels rustling in the underbrush. No bird call threading through the trees. Just the creak of the wind in the high canopy, and the steady drum of her heartbeat, loud and unyielding in her ears.

She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. The bond tugged at her, a soft, insistent hum beneath her ribs. It should have been a comfort, that thread of connection tying her to Bastian, but right now, it felt more of a leash.

How could she feel so bound to someone she barely knew? How could something sacred feel as if it were a shackle?

Her breath caught as a flicker of movement drew her gaze. Eyes. Low to the ground. Four of them. Glinting in the dark, too wide apart to be deer. Too still. They stepped into view, two massive wolves, hulking and feral. Fur patchy, ribs visible beneath skin. They moved as predators long removed from anything human. There was no discipline in them. A loss of control replaced by hunger.

Rogues, but they weren’t the only ones. Another entity was out there. She didn’t hear it or see it, but she felt it. A presence, wrong and cold and… curious, and then she saw it. Pale skin. Human-shaped. But not human. It didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. It stood too still, something pretending to mimic life, a statue in the shape of a man, waiting to strike. It didn’t growl. Didn’t blink. Just watched.

The air thickened, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. Her instincts screamed and begged her to run, to bolt, to move, but her body wouldn’t listen. The ground underfoot felt too soft, too quiet, as if it was ready to swallow her whole.

Her mouth was dry. Her fists clenched at her sides.

You’re not just human anymore.

The words rang in her head, quiet but firm, echoing the words Ellie had said, but Mira didn’t feel powerful, she felt hunted. Her stomach turned. She didn’t know what that thing was, but her gut knew one thing with unwavering certainty. It wasn’t here to kill her.

Not yet.

One of the wolves bared its teeth. A low, rumbling snarl cut through the stillness.

Her breath hitched. She took one small step back, and that was enough.

They lunged.

The world narrowed to teeth and claws and the sharp rush of adrenaline as her heart slammed against her ribs, but before they reached her, something broke loose inside her.

A dam from deep within burst. Heat surged through her veins, liquid fire, molten and electric. Her fingers tingled. Her vision sparked at the edges. Light danced along her arms, faint at first, then brighter. Fierce.

She didn’t understand it, didn’t know how to control it, but it responded to whatever was deep inside her. Not fear, instinct.

The wolves hesitated, skidding mid-lunge, muscles twitching as they pulled back just slightly. They felt it too. Whatever she’d unleashed, it frightened them, and then, just as a candle snuffed, it vanished. The light disappeared. The fire dimmed. Her knees buckled, and that’s when she felt him.

Bastian.

The bond slammed into her, loud and sudden. He was close. Too close. The power inside her hadn’t fled; it had yielded. It needed him just as she needed him.

A snarl shattered the air, deep, wild, and furious.

The wolves turned, instinct flashing through their movements. And then he was there.

Bastian exploded from the shadows, a force of nature, golden eyes burning, jaw tight, body vibrating with rage. His wolf churned just beneath the surface, every inch of him brimming with power.

The rogues immediately recognized the mistake they’d made. Bastian didn’t pause.

Mid-stride, his body shifted, bones snapping as he erupted into his wolf form, massive, fast, deadly. He collided with the first rogue mid-air, the sound of the impact cracking through the forest. Fur and blood flew. He didn’t stop. He spun, launching at the pale creature watching from the shadows.

It tried to move but was too late as fangs sank into its shoulder. A sound escaped it, sharp, guttural, not a howl. Not a scream. Something older. Wrong. Its blood hit the earth and hissed, steam rising where it splattered.

Mira gasped.

The thing shoved Bastian off with an unnatural burst of strength and vanished, a blur of shadow retreating into the woods, but it was too late. Bastian had drawn blood, and she had seen it.

The fight ended as quickly as it began.

Callum arrived in a blur of fur and fury, slamming the second rogue into the ground. Bastian ripped through the first as if it was paper.

Then—silence.

Mira stood frozen, her breath shallow, chest tight, her eyes locked on the spot where the creature’s blood had burned the forest floor. Smoke still curled up from the blackened patch of earth.

This wasn’t happening. Too much, too fast. Her lineage, her father dying because he fell in love with a woman he could never bear. The fact that she wasn’t as human as she thought she was. That bloodied, dismembered bodies lay scattered on the ground in pools of blood. Her body began to shake violently, bile burning her throat at the stench lingering in the air.

Bastian turned slowly, his chest heaving, streaks of blood marking his skin, but what gripped her more than the blood, more than the fury still clinging to his posture, was the look in his eyes. It wasn’t just rage. It was recognition. He knew what that thing was, and if he knew, that meant this wasn’t the first time he’d seen one.

Bastian

The last rogue hit the ground with a wet thud, and silence surged through the clearing just as crashing wave would. Blood. Sweat. Adrenaline. Bastian could smell and taste all of it, but beneath it, sharper, more consuming than anything else, was the scent of her.

Mira.

Alive. Shaking. Close enough to reach.

He turned, and his entire body roared. His wolf lunged inside him, frantic and wild, clawing at the walls of his restraint with a singular, brutal instinct: mate. The bond pulsed white-hot, a live wire snaking through his chest, lighting him up from the inside out. Her fear, her scent, the faint charge of power clinging to her skin, his power, it dragged at him with claws and teeth and hunger, but it wasn’t just the bond screaming through his blood. It was the memory of that thing. That creature had been near her and could have sank its teeth into her.

Not a wolf. Not a shifter. Not anything that should’ve existed in their forest. Its blood had hissed when it hit the ground, dark, unnatural, wrong. It hadn’t attacked. It hadn’t even flinched. It had simply watched her, as if she meant something. And Bastian knew. Not by name. Not by allegiance, but by the way it stood. The way it waited.

The Forgotten weren’t supposed to be this close.

He clenched his jaw, dragging himself out of that thought, back to the clearing, to her. Mira stood in the center of the wreckage, her body swaying heavily. Lips parted. Eyes wide. Her limbs trembled, and she looked impossibly small, impossibly breakable, and so goddamn beautiful it made something in him ache.

Mine.

The word snapped, a whip in his head. His fists clenched. His jaw locked. Not now. Not like this.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The growl tore out of him, sharp and ragged. He didn’t mean to snap, not at her, but fear twisted around every breath he took. His steps toward her were slow, deliberate, forced.

His wolf thrashed just beneath the surface, enraged by the leash Bastian kept tight around it. It didn’t care that Mira was in shock. That she was human. That she was overwhelmed. It only knew she was their mate, and that she had been in danger. That she was still unraveling, still hurting, and every nerve in him screamed to fix it. To rip the world apart until she stopped shaking.

The second his hands closed around her arms, heat exploded through his system. Her skin was soft, fever-warm, and alive, and it almost broke him.

She looked up at him, and shattered.

“They’re dead and I— I didn’t mean to—It felt as if it was inside me, burning—” Her voice faltered, panic fracturing her words.

He could barely breathe through the bond, her panic thrummed through it, erratic and sharp, and it lit his temper as would dry kindling. Protect her. Anchor her. Take her.

Bastian’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He couldn’t lose control. Not now. Not with her this broken and fragile in his arms.

“Mira,” he rasped, voice thick, wrecked. But she didn’t hear him. She couldn’t.

Her hands pushed against his chest. His breath caught. His vision blurred. His wolf surged again, furious at being denied.

It would’ve been so easy. To bury his face in her skin. To breathe her in and let instinct take over. To make her his in the way the bond demanded, but she wasn’t ready.

She was shaking. Crying. Splintered. This wasn’t the time for claiming. This was the time to hold the damn line.

“Stop.” His voice was low. Firm. Meant to anchor.

Her gaze snapped to his, wide and wet and swimming with guilt.

“I didn’t ask for this—I don’t want to hurt anyone—I didn’t mean to—”

Bastian lifted his hands slowly, carefully, cupping her face as if she might break. His thumbs swept the tears from her cheeks, and his fingers trembled—not with weakness, but with restraint.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” he said, voice quieter now, fighting to hold onto calm. “You stopped it.”

“No. It stopped because you were there,” she whispered, voice splintering under the weight of what she’d seen. Of what she was becoming, and he felt it. Her fear. Her guilt. Her need for someone to tell her she wasn’t a monster.

It wrecked him.

His wolf howled beneath the surface, agonized at being kept back. At being so close and doing nothing, but Bastian didn’t let go. He didn’t give in. He held her tighter.

When she finally broke, body folding into his, arms wrapping around him, a lifeline, and he caught her. Held her close, not to claim her, but to protect her from the world. From herself. From what this night had already taken.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice ragged against her temple. “You’re okay.”

He didn’t know if he was saying it for her or himself anymore.

Around them, the others gathered, cautious and distant. They felt it. The crackle of the bond. The storm behind his eyes. They knew he was one wrong breath away from snapping.

“Callum,” Bastian barked, not looking up. “Get the bodies out of here.”

Callum nodded once and didn’t speak.

Mira curled deeper into him, her breath uneven, her heartbeat fluttering against his ribs like a bird caught in a cage, and still, he held her tighter. Pressed his lips to her hair.

And when he whispered, “You’re okay,” again…

What he meant was: I’m not. But I will be. As long as you’re still breathing.