Chapter 182: Silent Death, Screaming Truth

Kane

The wards shielded the mountain, but not the land around it. Thousands of acres of forest and river, fields, and patrol routes. They were unprotected by magic, only by teeth and steel. And anyone who thought they could circle it without consequence would learn quickly enough how wrong they were.

I was in the square when the scout found me, his eyes wide and sharp with the scent of blood still clinging to him.

“Alpha,” he said, his chest heaving. “Rogues. North river. A pack of them. They crossed over.”

Not random. Not that many, not bold enough to cross the water.

I rose slow from the bench, “How many?”

“Seventeen.” His throat bobbed. “More gathering on the far side. They… they weren’t even hiding, Alpha. They wanted us to see.”

Serg and Cole had been sparring nearby. They stopped cold, sweat dripping down their necks, their attention snapping to me.

Serg bared his teeth. “Seventeen? They want to swarm us.”

Cole’s mouth curved in that humorless line of his. “Or they are testing. See how quick we bite back.”

“They’ll have his answer.” My voice cut low. “Nobody crosses my river and leaves breathing.”

We moved at once. Two squads of warriors, Serg and Cole at my side. The forest stretched out black and endless, the moon thin but enough to silver the river ahead. Every wolf in my pack knew this land better than their own skin. The rogues didn’t.

Their scent was thick by the time we reached the bank. Filth, old blood, hunger. They had crossed already, claw marks ripped into the mud where they dragged themselves up from the water.

I crouched in the brush and counted them in the clearing beyond. Fifteen gathered together, two more circling further out, sniffing for weakness. Seventeen, just like the scout said.

Too many for chance. Too bold for hunger. Only money would drive rogues to invade my territory.

It just does not happen.

“Landon,” Cole muttered. “Has to be. Tomorrow I’ll see what I can dig up with my team.”

The name settled like iron in my gut. I nodded at Cole in agreement.

“Let’s bleed them,” Serg said, his grin sharp and hungry.

“Yes,” I said. “But one lives.”

I mind-link my guards, giving orders. Shift if you want, kill, and leave one alive. I chose to stay unshifted for now, using the shadows to hide myself. Some might wonder why I give my guards the ability to fight unshifted, and the answer is easy. Some of us just like to see blood on our weapons, others claws. I don’t care as long as those who are supposed to die do.

Serg launched first, his wolf a black blur crashing through brush and flesh. Cole followed, blade flashing silver. The clearing erupted into chaos.

I slipped through the shadows, silent, slipping past snarling jaws. My knife found ribs and ripped upward after I reformed. The scream gurgled as blood sprayed hot across my face. He collapsed, thrashing, guts spilling into the mud.

Another came from behind, I slid into shadow, let him pass through me, then reformed with steel in his back, twisting until his spine gave under the blade. I don’t care if they see me use my gift.

They won’t live anyway.

Serg’s wolf crushed a skull, the wet crunch ringing through the trees. Cole’s sword caught another across the belly, intestines sliding loose as the rogue fell screaming, clawing at his own spilled organs.

The ground turned slick with blood; the air was hot with the stench of iron.

I caught one rogue by the scruff, slammed him to the ground, and sank my shadows inside him. Into the rot of his fear and rage. Into his darkness.

I controlled it.

His body froze, his eyes wide.

Turn on them, I commanded.

He shrieked as his claws swung, tearing into his own packmate’s face. Flesh ripped from bone, the jaw dangling by a thread of sinew. He howled, spitting teeth and blood as his own ally gutted him.

The rest staggered back, snarling, confused.

Kill them, I pressed harder. Rip them apart until I say stop.

He obeyed, body moving like a puppet, tearing into another’s throat until his claws were slick and his mouth foamed red. Terror bled from his eyes as his body betrayed him.

I held him until his heart nearly gave out, then released. He collapsed, in the gore of his own making.

Alive. Mine.

The clearing was red by the time the last fell, twitching. Wolves lay in heaps, throats torn, bellies split open, steam rising from fresh corpses. The river lapped at the bank, carrying blood downstream in crimson ribbons.

Serg padded back, muzzle painted red. Cole wiped his blade clean on a corpse’s pelt.

I pointed to the rogue I had control of, not knowing how long I would be able to control him, but eager to find out.

“Take him,” I ordered. “The rest can go on our pile to rot.”

We dragged the rogue wolf to the riverbank. He fought, weak but still breathing, eyes rolling white with panic. Serg kicked him in the ribs when he tried to thrash. Something cracked, and he vomited blood into the mud. “Shift!” I demanded. Rogues never shifted. They are packless and stay in wolf form. Most are feral, but I control the darkness of that now. “Shift!” I called into his mind. I could feel him fighting against it, but it doesn’t matter. I control his evil now.

His body started shaking, bones contorting. He howls out, likely in pain from not shifting in so long. It would be hard to watch if he hadn’t just invaded my territory. The rogue lays before me, naked, battered, panting, and coughing up blood.

I crouched low, knife under his chin. His throat jumped fast, blood dripping from his nose, teeth cracked from where he’d bitten down too hard in the fight.

“Who paid you?” I asked. My voice was calm.

He whimpered, shaking his head.

I pressed the blade into his skin. A bead of red swelled, slid down into the filth of his chest.

I flooded his mind with my power. Searching through his darkness, demanding it answer. His body arched, choking, as if he were drowning in blood that wasn’t there.

“Tell me,” I whispered into his darkness.

“Landon!” The name ripped from his throat. Blood sprayed as he coughed. “It was Landon!”

I didn’t blink.

“Why?” My voice stayed flat, patient.

“He...he wants....” His body convulsed, trying to resist telling me anything, but my grip on his darkness crushed down harder.

“He wants the Luna!”

My chest went still. Cold fury flooded my veins.

Amelia.

Of course. Of course Landon’s hunger hadn’t been sated. He wanted what he could never have. What was mine.

The rogue sobbed, blood running from his mouth as he gasped under my grip. I pushed harder, forcing him to choke on his confession.

“Say it again,” I ordered.

“He wants her!” he screamed, throat raw. “He wants the Luna...he wants her!”

My gift hummed in me, restless, furious. My wolf snarls, demanding retribution.

I slit his throat clean, let him crumple in the mud, blood pumping hot and fast until the river carried it away. “Add him to the pile.”

Serg and Cole said nothing, only watched as I wiped the blade and stood.

Amelia.

I turned toward the mountain, the home where she waited.

“He wants her,” I muttered again, the words a snarl on my tongue.

And then the vow burned itself free of me like a howl.

“If he reaches for her again, I’ll burn the world to ash.”