Chapter Twenty-three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DRAVEN

D raven lurched upright in bed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, feeling like he'd just been thrown off a cliff. He couldn't seem to stop the free-falling sensation. Wide awake, he glanced around the room, uncertain what woke him. It was nearing four in the morning, and the house remained silent.

The rest of the men were gathered around Morgan, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her safe and protected. Then Caedmon and Ryder jolted awake as well, their eyes glowing with their beasts, growls rumbling from both of them.

The sight of teeth and fangs sent a shaft of ice down his spine.

His gut lurched when Morgan thrashed, a furrow appearing between her brows like she was having a nightmare.

The other two turned in unison, the feral looks in their eyes fading slightly as their beasts receded. His concern was mirrored in their eyes.

"What's wrong?" He kept his voice low, but it was still enough to wake everyone else…but Morgan.

Atlas immediately leaned over her still sleeping form, brushing his hands along her face and neck. Magic bloomed in the air, gentle as a breeze, then his face darkened. "Morgan. Sweetie. Time to wake up."

"Whaaatz happen'n?" Her violet eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused, her words slurred.

Kincade leapt out of the bed, shoving his legs in a pair of pants before gathering his weapons, Ascher and Caedmon were just a step behind him. "We're under attack."

"Imma com'n." Morgan struggled to sit, but Ryder pressed down on her shoulder.

"The house is safe." His voice was more of a growl than words. "Let the guys scout it just to be sure. We need to figure out what's wrong with you first. You'll only be a distraction to them if you go now."

"She's been poisoned," Atlas muttered, a savage expression replacing his concern as he gently pushed Morgan into Ryder's arms, then slid out of bed, pulling out a small black bag from the closet. He rummaged inside, retrieving a small mortar and pestle, and an assortment of plants.

"How? We prepared her food. We ate and drank the same things, and we're fine." Draven curled his hands into fists to keep from lunging across the bed to get to Morgan. Fear seared his insides, and he struggled to contain the outright panic that threatened to consume him. He watched the others get ready for battle. As much as he wanted to defend their house, he didn't have the heart to leave Morgan alone and vulnerable.

Caedmon grimaced, a grim expression on his face, and Draven noticed for the first time that the fae was pale and clammy. He didn't let it slow him down though as he picked up his sword.

Draven narrowed his eyes, then glanced at Ryder.

The man wasn't in much better condition.

They were so focused on Morgan and defending the coven, that they shoved aside their own discomfort.

That was when he saw the hunter's tattoo on Morgan's arm.

It looked like it was fucking bleeding.

"It's the wolves." Draven leapt out of bed, yanking on his pants, urgency flashing through him. "Someone poisoned the wolves. Morgan is being affected somehow. Once the wolves are down, they're going to go for the wards while she's weakened."

Swearing blistered the air.

Rage thickened in the room until breathing became difficult.

When Ryder looked like he was ready to lose his shit, Caedmon clamped his hand down on his shoulder. "You can't shift. The poison is more potent to our wolf form. You shift, and it could knock you out cold."

Ryder looked even more pissed, but he gritted his teeth and nodded, his whole body shaking as he resisted the impulse. The wolf buried his face in Morgan's hair, which seemed to calm him. Draven glanced at Morgan in concern and saw that she was once more asleep…or unconscious.

"It must be the fae." Steam practically rose from Ascher, his blue eyes electric. "They must have been planning to come back and possibly left a way to get inside the coven.'"

Atlas came back to the bed with some kind of drink that smelled so nasty that his own stomach churned and threatened to revolt. The fae cupped the back of her head, brought the cup to her mouth, and slowly forced the liquid between her lips. She grimaced and tried to push it away, but he remained firm, forcing down the toxic brew.

"Wolfsbane is particularly toxic to wolves." Atlas grabbed Morgan's jaw when she began to fight him in earnest, tipping the glass up to force the last of it in her mouth. "In small doses, it can make wolves violently sick, even knock them unconscious. If too much is ingested, it can kill."

Everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing at his announcement. Draven felt like his guts had been turned inside out, his legs wobbling when it felt like the bones had been removed from them.

But he shook his head, refusing to let his fear control him.

Morgan was still alive, and he was determined to keep her that way. He straightened his spine and gazed at Atlas. "Why is she affected? "

"She's the alpha queen." Caedmon looked absolutely pissed, seconds away from crawling up on the bed and shaking Morgan. "She's connected to the pack in ways that are deeper than just an alpha. No doubt she sensed the wolves were in trouble and began siphoning the poison from them…and taking the brunt of the effects."

Before anyone could react, Morgan lurched toward the side of the bed. Atlas barely got a waste basket under her in time before she puked up the vilest smelling thing he'd smelled in his life. It looked like it was some sort of black sludge.

Ryder carefully pulled back the strands of her hair, cradling her against his body, and Draven ignored the pang in his chest that it wasn't him comforting her.

Then a howl went up in the distance, and fury exploded through him that someone would dare come after his mate. He began gathering his weapons.

He was done playing by the rules.

If they wanted a war, he would give them a war.

" Y ou will not leave this room without me." Morgan lifted her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her stomach cramping with the urge to dry heave again. Her body trembled as she pushed herself out of Ryder's arms, feeling like a drunk as she crawled to the edge of the bed. Her limbs tingled almost painfully with the movements, but it seemed to be fading.

Though she felt like she'd just been dropped from an airplane and gone splat, her head was already beginning to clear. When the guys looked ready to protest, she held up a hand and slowly dragged herself to her feet, feeling very much like a sloth. She wobbled pathetically, her stomach lurched, and she gritted her teeth, determined not to get sick again.

They couldn't leave without her .

She was terrified she would never see them again.

She expected some sort of fight, a threat that they would tie her to a chair. They glanced at each other, silently communicating in a way that used to drive her nuts—even Caedmon joined them—but she was oddly comforted that they had each other's backs, even if it was against her.

Kincade strode toward her and lifted her chin, gazing down at her with hard, pale green eyes. "Are you sure?"

She straightened her spine. "I've fought in worse conditions. I can handle it. The wolves need me."

Kincade glanced over her head, and Morgan turned to see Atlas scanning her with a critical eye. "We caught it in time. The poison was purged from her system. She should continue to get better with no lasting effects."

Morgan pushed home her point. "The fae aren't going to leave without me. We need to confront them and put a stop to it."

He heaved a sigh, knowing she was right.

Snarling erupted from outside, and she shoved Kincade aside, grabbing for her clothing, when Atlas caught her wrist. She turned, chin raised in defiance, resisting the urge to break his hold. "You won't talk me out of going."

"I know. You're nothing if not stubborn." He gave her a wry grin, which quickly melted away.

She quirked a brow at him, but before she had a chance to speak, he slipped the Faerie clothing over her head. It cascaded down her body, lengthening and tightening to wrap around her curves until she was covered from neck to boots in battle gear. The soft material should've felt flimsy and weak, but she knew from experience that it was stronger than even chainmail.

When she would've protested that he should be wearing it, he shot her a harsh look. "It's the only way you're walking out that door. If you don't like it, you can stay."

Her teeth clinked together when her mouth snapped shut.

She knew better than to argue with him when he was in that mood.

They headed out together, the guys falling into formation around her until she was in the center. She didn't complain about the maneuver, used to their antics by now. The men didn't crowd her, giving her enough space to move if attacked, so she really didn't have room to complain.

It wasn't a fight she could win.

They stepped outside to see metal wolves fighting against ferals, and her heart sank as the churning mass of animals savaged each other. The wounded lay scattered through the yard. Though injured, none of the ferals relented. They dragged themselves back to their feet and attacked again and again.

Dozens of her pack were incapacitated, but thankfully, not dead.

When she would've gone to help them, Ryder grabbed her arm and held her back. "You can't touch them. You can't risk being infected again."

Even as he spoke, the air shifted, and a fine dust swirled at the edges of the barrier. The back of her throat burned, her nose stung, even her eyes watered. A couple of the ferals staggered, then dropped to the ground, their sides heaving, and she quickly lifted her arm, burying her face into the crook of her elbow. "It's in the air! Don't breathe!"

"Stay back." Ascher leapt down the stairs, lifting his hands. The air around him rippled, heat coming off him in waves, then flames shot into the air. Tiny particles caught fire until the night sparkled as the poisoned particles burned out.

For a full minute, the sky was on fire.

Only when the air burned clean did Morgan leap down the stairs after him. When the flames burned out and his arms dropped to his sides, Morgan slipped her arms around his waist, barely catching him when he sagged. She dragged him over to the bottom steps, then eased him down, the heat of him tingling against her palms.

His chest heaved as he gulped fresh air. Sweat plastered his hair to his head. His clothes were still smoking, scorched in spots. She was surprised he remained conscious after expending so much effort, and she curled her hands into fists to keep from patting him down to make sure he was okay.

"Go," he wheezed out, waving her off. "I'm fine."

Morgan straightened reluctantly when the rest of her mates joined them. As much as she wanted to stay by Ascher's side, they needed to discover who'd orchestrated the attack.

The yard resembled a disaster zone, blood splattered across the grass, the ground torn up by claws. Most of the wolves were on the ground. The metal wolves sniffed at the intruders, pawing at them, seeming content when they didn't get back up.

Morgan glanced at the others in confusion, unease creeping down her spine like spiders crawling across her skin. "Why attack using wolves, then poison them before they finish? It doesn't make any sense."

A shotgun ratchetted from beyond the wards, and a dozen men dressed in combat gear stepped out from behind the trees, each of them armed. Not an inch of skin showed, each of the soldiers wearing masks and goggles. While they might look like humans, a tinge of magic and wildness vibrated in the air around them.

Wolves.

It explained how they got past the outer wards. So many wolves were seeking sanctuary that she'd allowed them access to the property. But she wasn't stupid. A second ward guarded the house. It was a lot more selective, only allowing a few chosen people across the grounds.

No way was she taking any chances with her mates' safety.

And now they were surrounded.

A man in the shadows caught her attention. He was different from the rest of them. Before she could figure out what was bothering her, one of the soldiers strutted through the rest and pulled off his hood and mask.

Morgan instantly recognized the asshole, and rage simmered in her veins. "Alpha Carrington. I should've guessed. Only a weasel like you would attack wolves desperate to leave your lackluster leadership. "

The smug grin on his face morphed into a snarl of unholy fury. "The instant they left, they became the enemy. No one leaves without paying the price. That they came to you only sweetened the deal."

Morgan couldn't believe the ego on the bastard. "And the ferals?"

"They were going to die anyway." He gave a negligible shrug, completely unrepentant, flashing her a toothy grin that made his teeth look longer and sharper. "Might as well make them useful. They would either kill your pack or you would get rid of them, problem solved. The wolfsbane is just an added bonus to eliminate whoever remained."

The metal wolves growled at his reply and prowled along the wards, clawing at the ground, eager to get at the man, as if sensing the rot inside his soul, but they knew better than to venture beyond wards. Their main focus was to protect the coven.

"You really are a fucking idiot." Draven marched forward, ignoring the small contingent of soldiers with their guns pointed at him, and grabbed one of the feral wolves before he heaved it over his shoulder. "Not only did you attack another pack unprovoked, you sent a bunch of innocent, sick wolves to their death instead of helping them."

Ryder gave a piercing whistle to call the wolves who remained on guard, then joined Draven, checking over the wolves on the ground, helping the pack shift back to their human forms. About two dozen wolves emerged from the darkness and came from around the back of the house.

They didn't need to be directed and immediately began collecting the injured wolves. They had so much faith in her that they trusted her and the others to keep them safe. A couple of the ferals snarled, but they were too weak to fight back when they were hauled away.

Carrington burst out laughing in genuine amusement. "You can't heal the ferals. It's a mercy to hunt them down and put them out of their misery. "

"You're wrong, it just takes a lot of power to heal them." Her lips curled in disgust as she surveyed him. "You either didn't care enough to do what is right or you didn't want to give up your power to help them. Knowing you, it's both."

"Lies!" he shouted, spit flying as he shot her a murderous glare. "Everyone knows that they're a danger to both the pack and humans."

Morgan cocked her head to the side. "I almost think you believe that. Maybe you told the lie so many times, you don't know the truth anymore."

A few of the soldiers with him shifted, glancing at each other uneasily.

"Whoever told you such fairy tales was just trying to take advantage of a na?ve fool, and you fell for it." He planted his hands on his hips, a pitying scowl on his face, but the menacing look in his eyes dared her to question him again.

"That's strange. I was under the impression that fae couldn't outright lie. They deceive, twist words, but couldn't actually tell a falsehood." Morgan glanced at Caedmon and Atlas, waiting for their confirmation.

"What?" Carrington took a threatening step toward her, murder darkening his eyes. "You're lying."

Morgan rolled her eyes at him. "Why would I lie about something like that—something that can be proven? Ferals have a magical imbalance that doesn't allow them to shift back. Eventually, their wolf takes over. My guess is most of the older alphas know about the cure, but the cost is too high."

Some of the shooters lowered their guns, turning to stare at Carrington, their anger practically vibrating in the air.

Carrington threw back his head and laughed, and chills raced up her spine at the insanity that rang in it. "You know, I might have let some of your wolves come back to me, after they paid for their defiance, but you just sealed their fate. Not only must you and your mates die, so must everyone else."

He shook his head like it was a great shame, but smugness oozed from his pores .

And she realized that had been his end goal all along.

He wanted anyone who dared defy him dead.

A few of the soldiers raised their shotguns, but they didn't shoot.

A furrow formed between Carrington's eyes, and he glanced at his men in confusion, then a snarl twisted his face. His chest swelled, and alpha power slithered through the air like a toxic cloud that tore away people's ability to think for themselves, turning the others into mindless flesh suits to do his bidding. "Fire!"

The men looked like they were marionettes, their limbs jerking as they fought for control.

But it did no good.

One by one, the gun barrels rose.

All except for the one man in the back, who stood with crossed arms and observed everything, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

Something about him was off.

Warped.

Wrong.

Her mates looked ready to tackle her to the ground, and she waved them off with a small shake of her head. Instead of trembling in fear, she lifted her arms and magic shot out of her in a blast just as the soldiers fired. The world seemed to slow down as the bullets paused midair, streaks of heat rippling behind them.

A couple of the bullets crashed into the wards and shattered like they were blown apart.

A few of the metal wolves crossed the wards and leapt at the bullets…and just swallowed them. It sounded like a spoon got caught in a blender as they chewed through them.

Morgan brought her hands together, the void magic gathering between her palms until her arms shook under the pressure, then she ripped her arms apart.

The bullets just disintegrated into a shower of dust and sparks .

"You really are that stupid." Morgan walked toward Carrington and shook her head. "You know I have the ability to control metal, and yet you bring guns."

Even as she spoke, heat pooled in her gut, and she lifted her arms again.

And the metal barrels of the guns began to wilt like warm taffy, drooping and stretching to the ground. The wolves dropped the glowing hot weapons with a thud and backed away from the twisted metal.

She faced Carrington, keeping the wards between them, knowing her mates wouldn't hesitate to follow her if she dared cross the line. Instinct told her not to get too close, and she suspected that the alpha had something else up his sleeve.

He wanted to destroy her too badly to leave it up to chance.

No, he wanted to humiliate her and erase her from existence.

"More and more wolves are lost each year, even fewer born. You're going extinct." She swallowed hard, her gut churning at the thought of losing those majestic beasts—at the very idea that Ryder or Caedmon might not exist in the future. "You have the ability to help them. Save them. Why?"

"Only the old and ancient alphas have enough power to survive the process of trying to change a feral. They can do one, maybe two in a year, before they're basically stripped of their power and left weak." Carrington sneered at her like she was an idiot. "What do you think will happen to the rest of the wolves if there are no alphas? If we came under attack? Would you risk your whole pack to save one or two wolves?"

The wolves on both sides of the skirmish froze at the news.

Some recoiled in horror, tears in their eyes when they realized that they had been sent to hunt their brothers and sisters, not knowing that they could have been saved. A howl rose from one man, so mournful that her eyes burned at the loss.

A few glanced at her with a tiny spark of hope so deep that it was almost painful to witness.

"Yes." Morgan didn't hesitate to answer both Carrington and the wolves' unspoken question. "My pack is my family. I trust them with my life. It's why we've been capturing the ferals. I don't know how it works, but I'm going to try to save them."

One by one, the wolves began to drop to one knee, their heads bowed…even the soldiers Carrington had brought. A joyous howl came from a lone wolf, the sound so piercing that it resonated in her soul. Another wolf joined in harmony until the whole pack sang a song of life and hope.

Morgan glanced at the soldiers, and the wolves quieted, a hush falling over the early morning. "This is your free pass. You are free to return to your own packs without fear of retaliation…or you can cross over the wards and join us."

Carrington tsked and threw up his hands, shaking his head at her na?veté. "Do you know why there are no utopias in the world? It's because they fail. You think you can change everything, save everyone, and it's not possible."

"You're right," Morgan replied, watching his wild, erratic gestures as he stalked back and forth across her yard. "This is no utopia. I'm an assassin first and foremost. As an assassin and alpha queen, it is my job to hunt down those who threaten others and can't be saved."

Morgan lifted her arms, Artemis's onyx bow appearing in her hand. She drew back the string, a smoky black arrow forming out of thin air, a tinge of void magic licking at the shaft.

As she took aim, Carrington's eyes widened, and he gawked at her in complete surprise. Even as he shifted and his wolf burst from his human form with a roar, she released the arrow.

The shot blurred through the air with a twang, nothing more than a smear of black smoke trailing after it.

The arrow hit true.

A twinge of pain went through her as the massive wolf dropped to the ground.

She lowered her arm, the weight of the bow heavy in her grip, and she released her hold. The bow vanished, and she wiped her palms on her pants.

Though she knew she'd done the right thing—Carrington had given her no choice—the kill felt personal .

For the first time since she'd become a hunter, it felt like she'd gone rogue and committed a crime. In the past, every hunt, every kill had been approved, each mission carefully selected and weighed by the coven leader. Her only job had been to follow orders.

The absolute power of being in charge of a coven, deciding who should live and die, sent a shaft of doubt through her, and Morgan wondered if she was strong enough to live with the consequences of her decisions.