Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

DAKOTA

T he waxing moon hung heavy in the velvet sky, its pale light casting eerie shadows across the dashboard as Dakota gripped the leather steering wheel. The scent of old tobacco mingled with the sharp sting of fear that clung to her skin like a second layer. Behind her, the hard outline of a gun pressed insistently against her spine, a silent yet screaming reminder of the man who'd forced her into this nocturnal drive.

"Keep it steady, sweetheart. Don’t let me catch you speeding," came the voice from the backseat, his faux tenderness like poison in a honeyed drink. Dakota knew the figure all too well—her ex, his once-charming features now twisted into a mask of desperation and greed.

"Where are we going?" Her voice was steady, though her heart thrashed against her ribs like a caged bird.

"Back home to your grandfather's estate," he replied, his words laced with a dangerous edge. "You're going to marry me, Dakota. Then you’ll sign over the property and all of the assets of the old man’s estate. I'll be good to you as long as you behave. You’ll see. I've already taken care of any... obstacles to our happiness."

Dakota's mind raced, her thoughts a tempest of strategy and defiance. She had no intention of succumbing to this madness, but she needed to keep him talking, buying time. "You mean you got rid of her? Just like that?" The question balancing on the brink of disbelief and accusation.

"Let's not dwell on the past," he said, an unsettling calmness to his tone.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of his cold eyes. This was a man she'd once trusted, shared secrets with, even loved. Now, he was a stranger, a hunter holding her life in his hands.

"Listen," Dakota began, the words flowing with calculated clarity. "I'm engaged. There's someone else."

"An engagement can be broken," he dismissed, waving the gun with a reckless nonchalance.

"Or," Dakota continued, leaning into her resilience, "you can just let me out here. I can make my way back. No one will ever know. If you leave and don’t hurt me, I won't have you arrested for embezzlement or report you to the bar. Just disappear, and all of this ends here."

Silence filled the car, thick and suffocating, as they passed under the starlit sky that hung over the road to the estate. The air was charged with anticipation, each second stretching out like the shadow of the wolf she harbored within her soul.

Finally, he scoffed, the sound grating against the tense atmosphere. "You think you can threaten me?"

Dakota's eyes hardened, reflecting the resolve of generations of wolf-shifters coursing through her veins. "It's not a threat. It's a choice."

The car surged forward, propelled by more than just its engine—a primal energy seemed to infuse the night, whispering of dark secrets and hidden powers yet to be unleashed. Dakota felt it, the call of her bloodline, an untamed force straining against the confines of her human form.

As they approached the looming iron gates of the estate, Dakota braced herself for what was to come. She would fight if she must, using every ounce of wit and will she possessed. But above all, she knew one thing: she would never let this man chain her spirit, nor claim her legacy.

The Buick rolled to a stop, and the air hung heavy with the scent of impending rain, the earth itself holding its breath in anticipation of the storm to come.

The iron gates of the estate clanged shut with a finality that echoed through Dakota's bones. She felt his grip tighten on her arm, his breath hot against the nape of her neck as he pushed her toward the entrance. The old oak door loomed before them, its intricate carvings a testament to generations past, now witness to her impending struggle.

"Move," he hissed, a venomous undertone in his voice that sent shivers down her spine. Dakota stumbled forward, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom.

"Remember," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "I gave you a choice."

His laugh was cold and hollow in the grand foyer of her ancestral home. "And I made mine."

He moved suddenly, trying to slam her against the wall—a display of power meant to intimidate, but Dakota's lineage wouldn't allow her to cower so easily. Reflexes honed by years of hidden truths sprang to life, her body reacting with an instinctual grace that surprised even her.

With a surge of energy that crackled through the air, Dakota shifted. Her human form gave way to the powerful silhouette of her dire wolf, muscles rippling beneath a coat of moonlit silver. She snarled, teeth bared in defiance, ready to protect what was hers by birthright and bloodline. He reached out and shook her by the nape of her neck with surprising force, forcing her to shift back. His eyes seemed to take on an ethereal glow—the same kind of glow she had seen in Landon’s eyes and the eyes of others at Copper Canyon before they initiated a shift.

"Surprised, Dakota?" he growled, the sound resonating deep within his chest—a threatening rumble that vibrated through the air. "I come from the cursed branch of our bloodline. After my witch ancestor cursed your line, mine suffered. Dark magic has plagued us for centuries, left us dwindling to near extinction."

The words fell like bitter ash upon Dakota's senses, the revelation igniting a cauldron of emotions within her. She had known of the curse that haunted her lineage, but never did she imagine the poison of that ancient spite had seeped into others or that she and her ex came from the same family tree. Was that why her grandfather had made him executor, why he had seemed resigned to their engagement?

"Thriving was a dream we dire wolves can barely remember," he continued, his voice a menacing whisper that slithered through the tense atmosphere. "No fated mates, no legacy of power—nothing but the shadows to call home. But I will claim what I deserve—what is rightfully mine."

Dakota's eyes darkened, a storm gathering within their depths as she contemplated the twisted narrative he spun. The implications were staggering; the curse had not only fractured her family—it had torn through the very fabric of their kind.

"Deserve? Rightfully yours?" Dakota spat out the word like venom, her hackles rising as she prepared for the inevitable clash. She knew she should be concerned with the fact that she was naked, but she wasn’t. She no longer felt vulnerable around him. "You deserve nothing but the justice that comes for those who betray their own. And nothing of my grandfather or his ancestors is rightfully yours."

Uncertainty gnawed at her insides, a relentless beast that made her doubt about her ability to overcome a male dire wolf's brute strength. She knew the fight could end in death, yet the resolve that hardened her heart was ironclad. No touch, no claim, no forced bond would be his prize this night.

He lunged toward her, but Dakota was swift, sidestepping with an agility that belied her statuesque form. She pivoted, ready to unleash the ferocity etched into her soul by centuries of hidden heritage.

"Your threats are empty," she snarled, her voice low as it echoed off the high ceilings. "I will fight you until my last breath before I let you shackle me to a life of submission."

"Then let us see whose blood runs truer to the ancient call," he challenged.

Dakota called forth her she-wolf—the swirling mist of color, lightning and thunder rising from the floor like some ancient mist. She felt what was now the familiar shifting of her body as the woman she was became the she-wolf of legend. As the mist fell away, once more she faced her ex, and this time she would not relinquish her wolf form regardless of what he did.

Her ex laughed at the transformation, a sound dripping with derision. Then, with a mocking grin twisting his features, he too began to shift. His body was consumed by the swirling mist of thunder, lightning and color, expanding into the formidable shape of a dire wolf, dark fur bristling with malice.

Dakota took a step back. He’d hinted at his true nature, but seeing it realized hit her like a punch to the gut. He’d known all along. He was like her—another creature of myth and moonlight, capable of darkness that mirrored her own potential for savagery. A sense of dread settled in her stomach like a stone, but she pushed it away, steadying herself for the battle ahead.

As the two dire wolves circled one another, the estate bore silent witness to the struggle of wills, an ancestral home turned arena for a duel as old as the curse itself.

‘Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming.’ She could hear the thought in her head. She considered reaching back out to Landon, but if she was to survive, she needed to focus on just that—survival.

And Dakota, with every fiber of her being alight with the ferocity of her forebears, readied herself for the battle to defend her freedom and forge her destiny anew. The air between them was electric, charged with the anticipation of a fight that had been centuries in the making.

The grand estate—the silent witness to their standoff—seemed to hold its breath, its opulent halls reverberating with tension. Paintings of long-dead ancestors looked on from the walls, their stoic faces shrouded in shadow, as if the very history of the Westwood line converged upon this singular, fateful encounter.

Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the trees with a mournful cry that seemed to echo Dakota's inner turmoil. But within her chest, a fire burned bright, fueled by the knowledge that no matter the cost, she would defend her legacy to the last snarl and snap of her jaws.

The opulent room, with its heavy velvet drapes and ancient oil paintings, became a battleground of primal fury as Dakota faced the monstrous form of her ex. His eyes, once familiar in their human guise, now gleamed with an otherworldly glow that set her pulse racing with both fear and anger.

The air crackled with primal energy, heavy with the scent of danger and an undercurrent of ancient magic. With a guttural growl that seemed to rise from the bowels of the earth itself, Dakota launched herself at her ex-lover. Her lithe form was a blur of shadow and muscle as she barreled into him, her jaws aiming for the vulnerable underbelly that even dire wolves couldn't armor.

Claws met fur in a maelstrom of snarls and snapping teeth. The estate's grand hall transformed into a wild battlefield, the opulence marred by the savagery of their struggle. Antique vases shattered, their porcelain fragments scattering like the remnants of a more civilized life now beyond reach.

Dakota struck with the ferocity of her lineage, each swipe of her paw fueled by a legacy of survival against the dark spells that had haunted her family. But he was an unyielding force, his own heritage an equal match to hers, his strikes potent with the desperation of a being fighting extinction.

She could feel the sting of his fangs grazing her flank, the impact of his weight attempting to bring her down. It was a dance as old as time, two predators entwined in lethal combat, each driven by their intrinsic natures. And yet, despite the raw power coursing through her veins, Dakota sensed the tide turning against her.

Panting, her energy waning like the last flicker of twilight before nightfall, she realized the grim truth. She was formidable, but not invincible. Her opponent bore the mass and strength of a male dire wolf in his prime, his endurance seemingly inexhaustible.

A sharp pain lanced through her shoulder as his teeth found purchase, a stark reminder of what was at stake. Fear coiled in her belly—not of death, but of a fate far worse: a life spent caged by a man's twisted sense of entitlement. The thought spurred her on, igniting a desperate surge of adrenaline.

Never she thought as she bared her teeth, the word a human defiance amidst the animalistic chaos.

Yet, as they clashed once more, the scales tipped further out of her favor. Each parry and thrust drained her reserves, her body screaming protestations with every movement. In the periphery of her vision, she caught a glimpse of her own blood staining the antique rug—scarlet evidence of her fading hope.

Dakota Westwood, descendant of cursed warriors, might have met her match. But surrender was not written in her stars, nor was compliance etched in her bones. She would fight, claw, and bite until the very end, her spirit undimmed even in the face of overwhelming odds.

The howl of the wind outside the grand windows of her grandfather's estate seemed to mock Dakota's plight, whispering secrets of freedom she feared she might never again taste. Her muscles strained with fatigue, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she circled her adversary, the dire wolf who once whispered false promises of love in her ear. His fur, a mottled grey like the storm clouds overhead, bristled with each menacing growl.

Dakota's own coat, a rich fabric of midnight and silver, was marred by the crimson that seeped from her wounds. The pain was a constant thrum, blending with the staccato beat of her heart. She could sense his satisfaction, the dark amusement in his yellow eyes as he toyed with her—a predator savoring the despair of its prey.

She lunged in an attempt to reclaim some ground, but he was swift and brutishly efficient. A powerful swipe sent her reeling, and she staggered against the age-old bookshelf, volumes tumbling around her like a cascade of forgotten knowledge. A sharp twinge shot up her hind leg, and she knew it would not bear her weight much longer.

As her opponent closed in, the air thickened, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the electric charge of imminent death. Dakota's vision blurred, her limbs quivering with exhaustion. This could be the end—the extinguishing of her spirit beneath the oppressive shadow of his dominance.

And then, with the inevitability of fate itself, the silhouette of salvation framed the doorway.

Landon stood against the dim light of the hallway, his presence a kind of unforeseen cavalry. His posture was relaxed, yet alert, the lines of his body coiled with potential energy. Dark hair fell haphazardly over his brow, framing intense eyes that burned with a fierce resolve.

"Let her go and walk away," Landon's voice cut through the tension, a blade of authority that pierced the room's charged atmosphere.

Her ex, momentarily distracted, turned his massive head toward the new arrival, lips curling back in a sneer. His stance shifted, calculating, assessing whether to confront this fresh threat or finish the prey already weakened before him.

Dakota, seizing the reprieve, forced her battered body to stand. She wouldn't let Landon face this alone—not when he had come for her in her darkest hour. They would defy the twisted destiny her ex sought to impose upon her together.

"You were late coming home," Landon teased, the wry humor lacing his tone belying the gravity of their situation. It was a brief flicker of warmth in the cold dread that had seized her heart.

‘Focus, Landon,’ she managed to retort through the link, despite the pain that lanced through her form. There was comfort in their banter, a reminder of shared strength amidst the storm.

Her ex howled, a sound that resonated with centuries of bitterness and loss—a declaration that he would not be denied. But as he launched himself at Landon, Dakota knew the battle was far from over.

Landon didn't flinch, standing firm as the embodiment of Copper Canyon's untamed legacy, ready to protect, to fight—and if necessary, to sacrifice everything for the woman who had unwittingly captured the wild heart of a lone cowboy with the soul of a wolf.