All Stacy knew was an explosion of spells and light and nature.

Rowan was somewhere to her right, Miles to her left, pulling on the raw energy encased in their natural surroundings. Stacy hit the wolf lunging at her with a blast of light. He did not stagger, but he didn’t come closer. He released a growl that made the ground shudder. She kept her stance.

Elsewhere, howls rose in the air. Stacy decided not to focus on what other wolves might be on the grounds. She had to fight this one here and now.

He lunged again. Stacy’s shield flared. His claws raked across it, and she cried out at the impact. He hit it again. A third time. She stumbled, her shield guttering, then going out like a flame blown from a wick.

The wolf’s maw opened wide. She struck him with a bolt of light in the face. His answering yelp was the only warning she received before he launched, and they landed in the soft earth. Claws penetrated the ground beside her head. Another inch and they would have been in her flesh. This beast had no reason in his eyes, only the urge to kill, tear, and devour.

Stacy flung up her shield again, stronger this time, before teeth or claws could sink into her. The magic burned through the beast’s fur, bringing a howl of agony. He was distracted long enough for her to roll and get to her feet, drawing a blade from her thigh and sinking it into the back of his neck.

Blood spurted, and Stacy panted. One down, a shit-ton to go if the sounds of struggle around her were any indication. She heard gunshots from inside the fortress. The snapping of branches and vines answered Miles’ call. Rowan was somewhere, and the wolves…

There were so many of them.

Stacy gasped as she spotted them. Dozens scrambling over the hillside. It wasn’t long before one noticed her and bounded in her direction. She covered her blade in blazing magic, reinforcing her shield. She charged toward another one of the bounding beasts, a shout ripping from her lungs. “For Spencer and Amy, motherfuckers!”

Miles plunged his magic into the earth and raised his hands. A barrier of stone shot into the air, blocking the approach of three werewolves bounding down the hillside. Miles’ face was set in fierce concentration. The wolves battered through the stone wall, but Miles had a new set of tricks awaiting them.

The first wolf fell into the pitfall opening into the ground. The earth closed over him, swallowing him in a quick, suffocating death. A vine lashed out, wrapping around the neck of another wolf and cutting off his air. Miles’ strikes against these two left him open for the third. He attempted to put up another stone wall, but he was too late.

A wolf’s clawed hand closed over his arm, raking through flesh and drawing blood. Miles cried out and struck with another vine across the wolf’s chest. This put space between him and the beast, giving him time to raise a second wall. The wolf lunged at the wall, tearing through the stones only to find the earth opening on the other side. He fell in, and vines swarmed after him like snakes.

The ground closed once more. Miles turned, searching for more wolves.

Half a dozen others barreled down the hillside toward Rowan, who fought with the ferocity of trees tossing in a storm. Flares of light several yards off said Stacy was fighting hard, too. Gunshots came from inside the fortress. Probably due to Kiera’s presence, if he had to guess.

Keep going, Miles told himself as he ran toward Rowan to aid his friend. He summoned the full might of his natural surroundings. The branches of trees whipped out, battering wolves passing under their canopy. Vines snaked along the ground, creating snares. More pitfalls opened. The stones seemed to sing.

Sweat slid down Miles’ brow as the strain of summoning so much magic at once began to weigh on him. Still, he surged onward, chanting the incantations needed for the earth to respond to him.

He reached Rowan as the loudest howl they’d heard yet filled the air. Miles turned to see a werewolf as tall as the trees hunched on the hillside, silhouetted by the moon and the stronghold from which he’d come.

This wolf was the biggest, but that wasn’t what made Miles think it was different. The wolf remained where he was, waiting. He prowled back and forth, low growls rumbling the ground.

“Holy shit.” Miles gasped as he glimpsed a figure flying through the shadows.

Stacy Drake ran up the hillside, shining with magic, to face the great wolf.

The blood of wolves spewed onto Rowan. He was sick of the smell, of the warm slickness. He kept going despite that. Three were down thanks to his sigil-bound sword entering necks, chests, and heads.

The woodland magic Miles had summoned came to Rowan’s aid, too. The trees responded to his will, thrashing and bashing the wolves surrounding him. He spoke incantations and spells, weaving his magic through the air. Runes formed and exploded.

He smelled flesh and fur burning. The chaotic sounds of wolves howling elsewhere, of Miles and Stacy fighting, of gunshots farther up the hillside filled Rowan’s ears. He drowned them out with the rhythm of his spell-speaking.

The ancient knowledge his body and mind had known since the day he was formed from the earth flowed through him. The spells left his tongue as naturally as breathing. These wolves were stronger than he’d anticipated. Several times, he found his shields battered down, claws and teeth reaching, sinking.

Pain flared in his back, right thigh, and left arm. He didn’t remember the wolf getting in a strike, and he ignored the pulsing. The time for healing would come later. He wasn’t bleeding badly enough to slow down yet.

Rowan’s sword was like another limb, moving of its own accord. He had sunk his blade into the neck of a fifth wolf and straightened, breathing hard, when he realized Miles was close by but not fighting. He had turned, looking toward the top of the hill where a great wolf stood with the moon reflecting beyond him. Stacy was running to meet him, a blast of magic exploding as he bounded toward her.

The wolf on the hillside looked like a real asshole.

Stacy didn’t care that he was larger than the others. Rowan and Miles were busy with the small pack surrounding them. After seeing the alpha atop the hill, Stacy didn’t think. She went to it.

Her shield shone around her, and before she came face-to-face with the beast, she allowed it to explode from her body. A surge of magic filled her, striking every emotion that rose to the surface. She didn’t want to contain it anymore. Wasn’t sure if she could.

To her immense surprise, the magic blast did hardly anything to the wolf. He rose on his hind legs, black fur bristling. He was fucking enormous. His claws were as long as her arm, and his teeth gleamed. He was ready for blood.

It was the eyes that stopped Stacy, though. They weren’t blazing red like those of the other wolves. They were steely gray. She’d seen those eyes before. Bloodlust was in them, but she saw thoughts, too. He was conscious of his actions, not acting on pure instinct. The armor on his body made it apparent he was different.

Stacy stopped short, her shield flickering and gasped. “You’re Victor.” Of course he was a fucking werewolf. The alpha. A fucking lycanthrope.

A deep, growling laugh issued from the wolf’s throat. “You have showed your true self, Stacy Drake.” His voice was guttural, full of pure hatred. “And now you see my true self.”

She didn’t have time to defend herself before he leaped on her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kiera knew she was done for if so much as one of those wolves struck her. It’d give the other eleven enough time to pounce and tear her apart.

The pack didn’t hesitate. They leaped as one, and they were so eager for blood that they had no coordination, unlike the pack who had attacked at the Thorn estate.

Kiera twisted her body, vanishing into shadow as easily as slipping behind a curtain. She moved with agile precision. Her first attack was one of lethal grace, a knife to the back of a wolf’s neck. He slumped to the stone floor. Howls filled the room in response.

She appeared beside another beast but didn’t have time to slash before claws raked toward her. She ducked and spun, folding herself back into darkness. The claws had caught on her cloak but nothing more. A few tears in her clothes was better than in her back.

Her breathing became more labored, her steps strained. Twelve was too many. Keep going, she commanded herself despite the ache growing in her muscles. Her magic felt tauter than before. Using her illusion magic to conceal her friends as they came onto the grounds, then taking down Victor’s human guards had been a tad too much.

She used her shadows long enough to get a running jump, then sailed in above another wolf, sending her shadows out like coils that wrapped around him. He thrashed, breaking through the bonds with a roar, but he was too late to evade her blade. A flash of silver and a snarling smile from Kiera and the wolf’s throat was gaping and red.

A claw caught her ankle, and she slammed to the floor. Kiera saw stars, and she could have sworn a few teeth were knocked from her gums. Blood filled her mouth. It was nothing compared to the pain of those claws raking her leg that followed, accompanied by a hungry growl. A scream tore from her throat, and her shadows exploded, hitting the wolf who had attacked in the chest.

Others pounced, but Kiera managed to roll her body enough to the left to evade them. Her shadows encased her long enough to get to her feet and shoot to the other side of the room. She couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Nine were left.

Help would not come to her. She had to do this on her own.

Kiera knew a particular trick. Using it would drain her, though. I have to. If I want to survive.