Chapter 23: Damian’s Rage
The moment the bond shuddered, stretched, and screamed, Damian felt it.
A white-hot pain tore through his chest, sharp and merciless, as if claws had raked straight through his heart, sinking into his very soul. His breath caught. His body locked and in the space of a single heartbeat, he knew.
His mate, his Isla, was gone. She had been snatched, stole, right in front of him. He would never forgive himself.
The chamber around him trembled as his head snapped up, silver eyes glowing like molten steel beneath the weight of ancient fury. The torches along the walls flickered violently, their flames recoiling as if in fear, casting distorted shadows that twisted like clawed hands across the ancient stones. But Damian’s own darkness was deeper, hungrier like a ravenous beast.
A low, deadly growl built in his chest, vibrating from the deepest core of him. It wasn’t just a sound, it was a promise. A vow laced with death. It echoed through the sacred space like a warning before slaughter. The ground itself responded, stones groaning as though unable to bear the force of the rage building inside him.
She was gone and that simple truth cracked something inside him.
Rage, cold and unrelenting, flooded his veins. It burned hotter than fire, sharper than steel. The bond that tethered them hadn’t broken completely, he could still feel her, faint and flickering, a thread frayed at the edges but not severed. She was alive. But in pain. Somewhere distant, surrounded by shadow. His wolf snarled inside him, a primal roar of fury and desperation that fought for release.
The markings on the walls, the sacred sigils etched by time and blood, flared in response, the ancient language of power pulsing red, then crimson, then a blinding scarlet, mirroring the violence coiling within him. The chamber strained under the pressure of his wrath, but there was no containing it, no suppressing it.
His fists clenched at his sides, the skin stretching taut over his knuckles as the beast surged forward. Muscles bunched, tensed, every fiber of his being honed on the faint, trembling pull of their bond. His instincts screamed for blood and for vengeance.
He remembered the look in her eyes before the torches went dark. The determination and the fire. Isla hadn’t cowered. She never would and that only made his fury sharper. They’d taken her despite her strength, despite his presence. They had dared to touch what was his and now the price would be unimaginable.
A single breath filled his lungs and then Damian moved. He surged forward, the shift ripping through his body in a violent explosion of power. Bones cracked and reshaped, his spine stretching, his frame contorting as flesh and muscle tore away to make room for the beast. His human skin split open like paper beneath the onslaught of his transformation. Fur, dark as midnight and streaked with silver, erupted across his form as the true Alpha was unleashed.
His massive paws struck the ground with thunderous force, claws raking deep grooves into the ancient stone as he leapt into motion. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pause to think. His mind had narrowed to one singular purpose.
Find her and kill whoever dared to take her.
The walls blurred past him, nothing but shadows and stone in his peripheral vision. His nose twitched, flaring wide as he hunted for her scent, the ghost of her warmth, the lingering trace of her heartbeat. Every echo of her pain fed his fury, each jolt of her distress tightening the noose around the neck of whoever was responsible.
The city, this forgotten, sacred ruin, shuddered beneath his fury. The very earth seemed to bend to his wrath. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled, but the sound faltered, silenced mid-cry as his snarl split the night. A sound like thunder. A declaration of war.
His silver eyes blazed as he launched himself over a shattered archway, his body nothing but lethal movement and unrelenting purpose. Wind howled around him, carrying with it whispers from the ancient stones, old magic awakening in the presence of the Alpha and they knew.
For the first time in centuries, the old wolves, the ones who lurked in shadow, the ones who had long forgotten fear, felt it again. They felt him.
The Alpha had come for what was his and nothing, oh god, no shadows, no fate itself, would stand in his way.
Damian’s growl deepened, rolling like distant thunder over the ruins. His claws struck stone, slicing through it like paper. The scent of blood, faint but unmistakable and tickled the edge of his awareness. Not hers, not yet, but close. The hunt was beginning.
His breath steamed in the frigid air, fangs bared and gleaming beneath the moonlight that filtered through broken ceilings and ancient spires. Power coiled in his limbs, barely contained, waiting to be unleashed on whoever stood between him and Isla.
She was his and oh god help the world, because he was coming.