Chapter 159 Carnage. Casualty

Chapter 159 Carnage. Casualty
❀ Maeve ❀

Alpha Mordane sank to one knee, his pained roar echoing into the night.

Within seconds, Leif had shifted into his wolf and ran straight for the swarm of ferals.

“Bastard,” the alpha growled, pressing his clawed hand against the wound.

He was lucky. He’d turned at the last second from my scream, dodging the worst of it. But the dagger had sliced a gouge in his side.

It bled without slowing, as the weapon was forged to do.

“That traitor,” Bastian seethed. “I’ll gut him—”

“Keep your head straight.” Alpha snapped. “Hold the line. No distractions.”

He stood back on his feet, his beast flickering over flexing muscles.

I shifted my gaze to the ferals. They’d paused, rabid eyes locked on us.

Then the ones in the center began to part like a choreographed wave.

Maverick Graves stepped forward. Leif stood beside him.

It was one thing to actively plan to overthrow your alpha, and quite another to switch teams in the middle of a supernatural war.

I bared my fangs. Coward.

He’d better hope he didn’t cross me in battle.

Maverick Graves said not a word. His face was twisted with gloating and greed. His intentions were clear as day.

To overthrow Alpha Mordane and seize control of IronWolf.

And Leif had weakened Alpha Mordane to tip the scales.

“You coward,” I shouted. “Alpha didn’t work out for you, so you settled for a mortal’s henchman?”

Leif’s wolf snarled back, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Maeve!”

I snapped my attention to the side.

To my horror, Carmela stepped out of the throng of ferals, holding Gwen hostage.

“You bitch!” I roared.

I shuddered to see Gwen in Carmela’s punishing hold. Her hands were wrenched behind her, Carmela’s claws poised against her neck.

I saw red.

Gwen was human. She shouldn’t be anywhere near here!

“Bastian,” Mordane said, “you’re in command of the line. Protect your mate. I’ll end this quickly.”

He tensed to charge—

“Be careful, please.” I blurted. 

My father inclined his head in a soft nod.

Then he darted forward with raw aggression. Explosive. Deadly.

At the same time, Maverick Graves raised his hand, and the ferals surged forward like a wave.

Alpha Mordane charged alone, sweeping through obstacles like dominoes, unrelenting on his target.

The moment Graves realized the alpha’s intentions, he ordered more ferals to form a tighter circle around him.

The others continued past the alpha, heading for us in an unstoppable surge.

Wolves sprang forward from behind, taking down ferals with tooth and claw.

Hybrid ferals—wolves turned by Graves—were wolverine-like, with burning red eyes and patches of missing fur.

The earth rumbled beneath them.

I kept my eyes on Carmela. She kept hers on me.

Then, with a cruel smirk, she pushed Gwen away from her, into the melee.

I vaulted forward like a coiled spring, then noticed Sorin’s large wolf running for Gwen.

I changed course, my head roaring with wrath, my thirst agonizing.

Following Mordane’s example, I plowed through ferals like a blade.

A severed head here. My fist through a chest there.

I had Carmela in my sights, and she wasn’t getting away this time.

The scent of blood cloyed my senses, my instincts haywire from overstimulation.

Carmela had shifted, her body contorting into her pitch-dark wolf, fangs sharp and wicked in the moon’s backlight.

She pounced, leaping high above me with claws flared.

I dodged, tracing out of reach. Had I seen her eyes widen in surprise?

Had she forgotten what I was?

A Crimson Lycan hybrid, crazed with wrath, senses locked on her beating heart.

Through the link, she goaded, “Look at you. More demon than the creatures prowling the underworld. That’s where I’m sending you.”

She snapped her jaws, racing for me—

I simply traced behind her, slicing both my clawed hands into her hind legs.

The wolf crashed to the ground with a howl.

Mind set, I walked toward her, gripping the neck of a feral that involved itself in the fight. I squeezed until flesh and bone pulverized. 

I reached Carmela’s wolf and stepped on its back.

Pressing down with steadily increasing pressure, I purred through the link. “You’re extremely foolish to challenge a demon, wolf. You’ve always been an overreacher.”

I snapped her spine. She barked in pain, then, in a moment of desperation, swung her large head to snap at me.

I seized her jaws with both hands, prying them open.

“Ah-ah…” I tutted. “You shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

I licked my lips in pleasure at the terror in her eyes. I pried her jaw backward until it snapped.

With my claws, I stabbed past her ribs, impaling her heart. I flared my claws, slicing it apart in her chest.

The wolf wheezed and went limp.

“No fun,” I purred.

The battle raged around me, bone cracking, fluids spraying.

I spied Bastian tearing a four-hundred-pound wolf apart.

Squinting, I wondered if it was Leif. I shrugged, then grasped the head of Carmela’s wolf. A quick wrench tugged it free.

‘Underwhelming,’ the wrath declared.

Kill. More blood. More death.

With lips curved in delight, I threw myself back into the fray.

I snatched muzzles and broke limbs. Sliced with my claws and stood in the path of a hot stream of spurting blood.

Death.

Such was the essence of life. Of existence. My mother hadn’t understood it. She’d fought it—

My mother.

Lyssa was dead. But Gwen still lived.

I snapped out of diabolical glee to find myself covered in blood and gore.

Death everywhere. Bones jutting from bodies, the earth soaked in blood.

My breaths came in ragged pants.

I looked back at the line of IronWolf soldiers pushing the ferals back from the pack.

My eyes widened. They were getting overwhelmed.

I couldn’t see Gwen anywhere. Nor Sorin.

Bastian raged in the middle of a dozen ferals, his beast monstrous and vicious.

At that moment, a feral leapt for me, jaws bloody.

Move or die. My body froze—

The feral dropped dead at my feet.

My breath expelled in a harsh burst.

What just happened?

All around me, ferals dropped like flies. On their feet, in the middle of combat.

Their bodies spasmed on the ground, shrinking as though a higher force sucked the life from them.

The field quietened.

Those left standing were the pure wolves of IronWolf pack.

Bloody, injured, but victorious.

Realization dawned.

Maverick Graves was dead.

At that moment, an anguished roar broke the night, raising the hairs on my skin.

Bastian.

I burst into a run toward the sound, my heart in my throat.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

As if the heavens had been wrenched open, water poured from the sky.

I reached Bastian, the rain washing blood down my skin. I wiped wet hair off my face.

Bastian was on his knees, shoulders quaking. What was he holding?

Some distance away, a beat-up body lay prone. A red lab coat covered it. I noticed a split second later it was white. It was soaked with blood.

“Bastian,” I reached for him, my feet taking me around—

Ashar appeared, grabbing me around the shoulders and leading me away.

“What are you doing! Let me go!”

My wolf ached to comfort my distressed mate, but Ashar kept pulling me away.

I kicked his shin and lunged back to Bastian.

Ashar tackled me into the mud, intent on preventing me.

But it was all for nothing.

I’d already glimpsed my father’s lifeless face.

Severed from his body.