Her body appeared across the room. When they saw her, the wolves released guttural sounds and leaped, unafraid of the blades dripping with blood at her sides. The figure of the fae woman did not move as they pounced.

Kiera felt their claws tearing through her flesh, their teeth raking across her bones. Her blood poured, coating the floor.

The wolves did not realize the figure they were ripping to shreds was an illusion cast by the real Kiera on the other side of the room until her blades flew. One went into a wolf’s back. He tossed his head and howled. Using a shadow, Kiera ripped it from his flesh. The blade sailed back to her.

A second knife went into the back of a wolf’s thigh. Kiera skidded across the room, shadows leaping to envelop her. She wrenched out the knife, twisted, and plunged it into the wolf’s chest. She spun to kill the wolf she’d injured seconds ago.

The copy of her made from illusion magic was all blood and twisted white bone on the floor, an empty face with glazed eyes and a gaping mouth. It melted from view seconds later. Panting and covered in sweat, Kiera forged on. She wrenched her blade through another’s wolf’s throat, her shadows leaping to take out a fourth.

Five left.

I can do this. Her eyes became unfocused, her movements the dance of death she’d learned centuries ago in the fae assassins’ guild. Images flooded her mind. A wide-open plain under a painfully bright blue sky. Blood coating sickeningly green grass. The world of fae had once been so vibrant it hurt.

She heard the dying cries of her comrades and saw the victorious, smug smile of her father beating the rebels. His golden armor gleamed in the merciless sunlight. Kiera had the urge to shield her eyes. A boy with a broken neck on the ground stole her attention, a pool of blood creating a perfect circle around his battered body. So young. His innocence and life stolen in a single breath.

Kiera’s throat closed, and she banished the images and sounds. This wasn’t the time to be assaulted by memories and regrets. She focused on the grunts and howls of the dying wolves. The smell of their blood coating her.

Clear a path to the future, she told herself. A long future.

Stacy was vaguely aware of the fence around her frying with magic, of stone walls crumbling every time a blast of her power slammed into something or Victor’s lycanthropic fury threw her into it. Her body barked with pain. Her head spun. Still, she continued.

Her fury was too great for her to slow down. Magic punched from her, blasting Victor from all sides. Its brightness blinded him, giving her the space and time to skid toward him and slide a blade into his side. His howl made the ground shake.

He wrenched the knife from between his ribs and the small opening in his armor she had penetrated and tossed it aside while using his other arm to swing out, hitting Stacy across the middle. She staggered, groaning, and her shield guttered out. Breathing became difficult.

Victor stalked toward her, tall as a tree, his black fur standing on end. His claws extended and canines dripped with saliva. Stacy wiped blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, trying everything she could to summon her magic into a shield. She needed to stall, give her magic time to regenerate.

“I always knew you were a monster deep down.” She spat blood on the ground. “I didn’t think you’d be this fucking ugly, though.”

The guttural sound from Victor’s wolf mouth was half growl, half laugh. “You may call this monstrous, but I call it power. It’s divine, what I have, Stacy. Many in this world would kill to have what I possess.”

“You have killed. You were always a wolf parading in sheep’s clothing,” Stacy went on. “Many in the city might worship you, see you as a savior, but I have always viewed you as the monster you are.”

A deep chuckle reverberated from Victor’s throat.

“Were you always this way?” she demanded.

Victor couldn’t help himself when an opportunity to stroke his ego came up. “I was born a wolf, as all Corbinellis are, but my magical power lay dormant for years. Experts among our clan developed a magical enhancer by harvesting the raw life energy of naturally born werewolves. When needed, I’ve taken these samples of other wolves’ lives and become…” He licked his chops, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing like steel in the light.

“Let me guess, super fucking powerful?” Stacy drawled. “I think what you’ve become is a fucking addict.” She waved at their surroundings, trying to ignore the distant gunshots and sounds of struggle. She had no room for fear of what was happening to her friends. “Is this all part of your stupid project? Breeding super-wolves from the lives of real ones?”

“It is much more than that,” Victor hissed. “I am building an army. I was hoping you would come and see it, Stacy Drake. I wanted to meet you in person, to test what you are and see if you might be the one to lead my army. I was wrong. You are stupid and childish.”

Stacy shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I baited you with those project files!” Victor roared. “Did you think your little journalist friend found them by accident?”

Stacy stilled. Fucking hell.

“Yes,” Victor purred. “I wanted you to come here all along.”

Stacy wiped a speck of dirt from her shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to attack your home first, did you? That was payback for attacking mine, and now this is for what you did to Spencer and Amy!”

She knew her words would ignite a reaction. He roared and slashed out at her with a mighty arm, claws shining. Stacy sidestepped and spun, her shield coming up once more. Spikes of magic flared from her shield, piercing Victor’s armor. He bellowed his rage and tore the magical blades from his body, tossing them aside as if they were wisps of smoke. She had to think of something else.

No time to formulate a plan because Stacy felt a sudden hit against her shield from behind. It wasn’t Victor. He was loping across the decimated yard. Stacy swiveled, but not in time to avoid another hit. Her shield fell as a large, black-furred beast lunged, tackling her to the ground. She screamed as she went down with the beast on top of her. Claws sank into her side, teeth into her leg.

The agony ripping through her was nearly too much to bear. Her screams turned to wails. She expected more teeth and claws, for her organs to be torn out and her body feasted on. She expected death.

“Let her go, Garth,” Victor growled. “You’ve injured her enough.”

Stacy’s head swam, and tears dropped down her cheeks as the wolf retreated, still prowling with eyes blazing. He was a long, large animal with paws as big as her face. He was conscious of his actions like Victor. Manufactured, not only magical.

She whimpered as pain flared through her body. She turned enough to get to her knees, barely able to summon her magic into a shield, let alone into something she could strike at Victor or Garth with.

Victor stalked toward her with a menacing smile. He bent, and Stacy cringed as he placed a claw beneath her chin, drawing a thin trickle of blood. She didn’t have the strength to pull away. He lifted her chin so her eyes had to meet his. “You have strength, Stacy Drake, but it won’t be enough to save you or your friends.”

The sound of Stacy’s scream rooted Rowan to the spot. It wrenched something open in him. His focus slipped, morphing into sudden panic and desperation.

Miles had killed the last of the wolves surrounding them with a pitfall and twisting, snaking vines. Both were breathing hard and covered in blood. On the hill, Stacy had engaged the great wolf in battle, but now she was hurt.

Rowan’s eyes flashed to Miles, a silent signal. They wasted no time running to the hillside. The wind ripped at Rowan’s clothing and skin. His heart thundered. When they reached the top, he spotted not one wolf, but two. The second prowled the shadows near the wall of the fortress, opposite the great one.

Victor, Rowan realized. The alpha wolf exuded a power that could belong to no other. He quickly registered what had happened. Stacy was on her knees, clutching her side and bleeding from her leg. Victor’s wolf form knelt before her, one claw beneath her chin. Rowan moved to launch at him, sword blazing in his hand. He didn’t get to because the second wolf leaped with a guttural growl.

Rowan spun, his blade striking out. He didn’t make contact. The wolf was too agile. Miles raised a new stone wall, stopping the wolf before he could get to Rowan a second time. Vines twisted along the ground, snaking to capture the beast.

The beast tore through the stone wall with a roar, descending on Miles before he could roll out of the way. Rowan took a running leap, sword raised, then plunging. It went into the back of the wolf’s neck.

With a mighty heave, Miles rolled the wolf off him. Rowan helped his old friend to his feet. “You good?”

“Might have crushed a few ribs, but I’m alive.”

They turned their attention to Stacy and Victor, but a change they had not expected was taking place. All Rowan could do was stand and gape.

The trickle of power inside Stacy grew, slowly but surely.

The raw power of her heritage boiled within her, rising from a well deeper than she had imagined. Any restraint she might have held onto snapped inside her.

Embrace it, a voice whispered. It was like Khan was here with her, a guiding hand on her shoulder. Take on the full mantle of your legacy and become who you were always meant to be.

A dozen fears bombarded Stacy, leaking through her in the form of tears. What if the power was too much? What if she couldn’t handle it? What if she destroyed more than she intended to?