Chapter 241 The Battle at the river: Zoey's POV

Chapter 241 The Battle at the river: Zoey's POV
The smell of black powder and river silt hung thick over the southern bank.

We hit Kaelen’s advance guard twenty minutes before noon. They were still setting up wooden stakes near the ruined stone bridge, their horsemen sitting idle in their saddles while their campfires smoked in the damp river brush.

They never heard us coming.

"Jace, fire!" I called out from the high pine ridge overlooking the water.

A hundred yards down the slope, Jace slammed a burning torch against the fuse of our light powder cart. The spark hissed down the iron pipe, burning fast into the charge packed underneath the bridge's northern stone abutment.

There was a loud noise.

The roar shook the gravel beneath my boots. A cloud of black smoke and shattered granite erupted into the sky, tearing the stone span in two and sending three mercenaries screaming into the icy, roaring water below. The explosion trapped twenty of Kaelen’s heavy horsemen on our side of the riverbank, cutting them off entirely from their main force across the river.

"Cavalry, charge!" Klaus’s voice boomed through the clearing like thunder.

Bram led twelve heavy bay warhorses out of the pine tree line, their iron shoes tearing through the mud. Right beside Bram rode Klaus, his father's broadsword held high, his dark wool coat flying back to reveal the gleaming iron breastplate underneath.

The trapped mercenaries panicked, drawing their broadswords and trying to wheel their horses toward the river woods.

"Clear his right flank!" I shouted to Samuel and Garos, who were running up the ridge beside me with their short bows.

I drew my first arrow, pulled the string back to my cheek, and let fly. The black-fletched shaft whistled through the smoke, catching a mercenary archer clean through the throat just as he raised his bow toward Klaus. He tumbled backward out of his saddle, his iron helmet clattering loudly against the granite rocks.

I didn't pause. My fingers moved in a rhythm honed over years of hunting in the high pass—nock, draw, release.

Two more enemy guards dropped into the mud before they could reach Bram’s shield line.

Down in the clearing, the clash of steel on iron rang out with brutal force. Klaus was a storm on the battlefield. He swung his broadsword with terrifying precision, the heavy double-edged blade cleaving through leather coats and iron chainmail like wet timber. Every stroke of his arm carried the raw, suffocating power of an Alpha fighting for his land.

A massive mercenary captain wearing a bear-skin cloak rode his black horse straight toward Klaus’s right side. The captain held a six-foot iron spear, its vicious broad tip aimed directly at the gap in Klaus’s armor below his ribs.

Klaus was engaged with two foot soldiers in front of him, his broadsword locked against an iron shield. He didn't see the spear coming.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The air in my lungs went stone cold.

"Klaus!" I screamed.

There was no time to think. I drew a heavy broadhead arrow from my quiver, pulled the wood until the iron tip touched my knuckles, and aimed two feet ahead of the charging black horse.

I released.

The broadhead struck the mercenary captain right under his armpit, punching through his iron chainmail and embedding four inches deep into his chest. The captain let out a choked gasp, dropping his spear into the mud as his body listed sideways and crashed off his horse into the cold river ditch.

Klaus turned his head instantly.

Through the drifting black powder smoke and the chaos of screaming men and swinging broadswords, his dark eyes locked onto mine on the ridge.

He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving under his iron breastplate, blood splattered across his cheekbone and broadsword hilt. The raw, terrifying Alpha instinct rolling off him was intoxicating, but as his eyes met mine, the dark rage softened into something sharp, intense, and suffocating.

He gave me a single, slow nod—a silent, fierce acknowledgment of the vow we had shared at the gatehouse.

I am clearing your path, Alpha.

I held his gaze for a second, my heart hammering against my ribs, before I snapped another arrow onto my string and turned my bow toward the riverbank.

"They are breaking!" Valerius shouted from the lower road, his iron bar covered in dark mud as he shoved three foot soldiers back into the water. "Press the line!"

The remaining mercenaries dropped their broadswords and iron shields, throwing themselves into the rushing river to swim for the southern shore.

Within thirty minutes, the northern bank was silent.

The twenty horsemen were shattered, eight captured, and the rest scattered into the icy current. Our forty-five soldiers held the river bridge, their black-painted wooden shields locked in a solid line along the edge of the water.

I walked down from the pine ridge, my short bow unstrung in my hand, my boots stepping over broken arrows and muddy iron gear.

Klaus was standing by the edge of the ruined stone bridge, watching the surviving mercenaries run south toward the horizon. His coat was torn at the shoulder, and his broadsword dripped red into the snow melt, but he stood tall, unyielding and magnificent against the backdrop of the open plains.

As I approached, he turned toward me.

Without a word to Bram or Valerius, he closed the distance between us in three long strides, stopping right in front of me. The heat radiating off his broad body was immense, thick with the smell of iron, pine smoke, and sweat.

He reached out, his broad, blood-stained hand grabbing my chin, tilting my face up so he could inspect my cheek and neck.

"Are you hit?" he demanded, his voice low, rough, and vibrating with an intense, lingering tension.

"Not a scratch," I said, my breath catching as my dark eyes met his. "I told you I would clear your flank."

His thumb brushed heavily across my lower lip, wiping away a speck of soot, his touch burning hot against my skin. His dark eyes searched my face, dipping down to my mouth for a long, heavy second while the troops cheered our victory behind us in the clearing.

"That spear would have taken my arm," Klaus murmured, his dark voice dropping so low only I could hear it over the roar of the river.

"I promised you I wouldn't let anyone touch you," I whispered back, my hand coming up to touch the cold iron buckle of his breastplate, my fingers lingering against the steel.

Klaus's dark eyes burned with a fierce, possessive heat. He squeezed my chin once, a firm, heavy pressure that made a shiver run down my spine, before slowly letting go.

"Valerius!" Klaus called out, his voice snapping back into command as he turned toward his captain. "Establish the forward camp at the stone outpost across the water. We take our rest here tonight."

"Right away, Alpha!" Valerius called back.

Klaus looked back down at me, his hand brushing mine as he unbuckled his sword belt.

"Come with me," he growled softly against my ear. "We have a lieutenant to interrogate."