45. Mai

Chapter forty-five

Mai

I stood beside Ryan at the front of our Pack, the cold wind whipping through my hair as I surveyed the east bank of the Whispering Willow. I glanced over my shoulder at the dense forest stretching out behind us, ancient trees reaching skyward, their branches swaying in the breeze. Between the forest and the river, our forces lined up in the open space, ready for battle.

Everyone in our Pack had shifted to their wolf forms, everyone except for me and Ryan. Wolves had the advantage on this terrain over our human forms. But as Alphas, Ryan and I could partially Shift, and that flexibility was our best weapon here. Brock wasn't an Alpha anymore, if he had ever been one. I still suspected the witch had transferred Jem's bond to Brock and make everyone, including Hayley, think that he was the Three Rivers Alpha.

Jem was here, against every recommendation from Thomas and orders from both me and Ryan. Jem pointed out that technically he was a rogue wolf now; he'd been kicked out as Alpha when me and Ryan took over, and given he had yet to accept us as his Alphas, he could do what the fuck he liked, as he so carefully put it. He was physically weak, his wolf was still asleep, and we couldn't risk attempting to wake him up in case his wolf came after me again. But he was here, he needed to be part of this, to get revenge for Hayley. I hoped, if he survived, if any of us survived, that this would be the first step in his recovery. He needed to feel that he had done something, had tried to get justice.

Our Pack had been divided into units of twenty, each led by one or two Renegades. The Shaw brothers, as our best fighters, would act as roaming agents, going where fighting was fiercest. Sofia and Jase had been added to the unit closest to me and Ryan, their wolves a similar maroon color. As I'd been getting ready this morning, I'd overheard Ryan tell Jase that his only job today was to protect me and watch my back. It rankled; I should be protecting Jase not the other way round, but I knew there was no point arguing with Ryan about this, and if it meant he didn't have to worry so much about me and could concentrate on the fight then it was a small price to pay. We'd discussed bringing in Talia, but it was too big of a risk. We both suspected that Brock had been trying to warn us off Talia by making us suspicious of her. It worked. We didn't know who to trust on the Wolf Council and until we did, we decided not to get Talia involved. We would have to win this one on our own.

Derek's wolf was pacing restlessly, refusing to stray far from Sofia. He kept circling back to her side, his hackles raised, his eyes alert. To our left, Ronnie and his men, about forty of them, stood armed with knives, their faces grim and determined. They had wanted to bring guns, but Ryan had vetoed that idea. In close quarters, the risk of friendly fire was too high .

The rogue wolves I'd recruited had been integrated into our other units, scattered throughout the formation. We couldn't afford to trust them with their own command, not yet.

Across the river, on the east bank, Brock stood at the head of his army. There was a mix of forms—about half in wolf form, half in human. The forest behind them mirrored our own, though their side had younger trees and dense underbrush providing plenty of cover for hidden reserves.

We'd stationed a couple of units in the woods behind us. They were there not just as backups, surprise additional units to charge into the fray if things looked bad for our side; they were there to guard against any from Brock's side trying to sneak up and attack us from behind. Thomas was waiting there too, with Amara, so they could provide medical care. Thomas hated fighting, despaired at all of us for resorting to violence, but he needed to be here, near Wally.

Just as we had forces hidden in the forest behind us, I had no doubt that Brock had extra units lying in wait, ready to strike from the shadows behind him.

I looked out across the river, my eyes locking with Brock's. Even from this distance, I could feel the intensity of his gaze, the raw hatred that seemed to emanate from his every pore.

My stomach churned, and I felt real fear about what was to come. Despite the addition of the rogue wolves to our ranks, we were still vastly outnumbered. I estimated that Brock's forces were at least twice the size of ours.

If he didn't come to us, we would need to cross the river to reach Brock, exposing ourselves to attack as we emerged from the water. The bank opposite would quickly get churned up and muddy, slowing us down. Our Pack would be picked off one by one as they struggled to gain a footing on the opposite bank.

Ryan was beside me, his body tense and coiled like a spring. He looked out over the river, surveying the army opposite. "You know, if you can't handle this, you can head back to town, oversee the evacuation if it's needed. You don't need to get your precious hands dirty in this."

Anger bubbled up, and I slowly turned my head to stare at him.

"You can be a condescending prick sometimes, you know that?"

"That's better," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Anger is good. You're going to need it today, along with the fear. Use them both, let them fuel you."

He'd wanted a rise out of me, wanted me to feel the anger so I wouldn't feel so scared. I loved him for it, but still. "Like I said, a condescending prick."

Ryan gave me a grim smile, then turned his attention back to the opposite bank. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the scent of rain and the promise of a storm.

Brock strode forward to the edge of the river, his sandy hair tousled by the breeze. I could see the smug expression on his face, the confidence in his stride, and I felt that familiar urge of wanting to punch it right out of him.

"I'm glad you came," he called out, his voice carrying across the rushing water. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

Beside me, Ryan remained silent, his eyes fixed solely on Brock. He was in hunting mode and had got a fix on his prey.

Brock laughed. "So be it, then. I'll make sure your deaths are not easy. "

Ryan tilted his head to one side until it cracked. Then he tilted his head to the other side, like he was warming up.

"I forgot to tell you, baby," Ryan winked at me. "I learned a new trick." Then, Ryan's body seemed to explode outward, muscles rippling and bulging beneath his skin as he shot upward, growing taller and broader with each passing instant. A colossal monster burst forth, and in a matter of seconds, Ryan towered above me, standing at least nine feet tall. He was a true werewolf, a massive creature that walked on two legs but was unmistakably beast, with a body covered in thick, dark fur, and the head of an enormous wolf.

Fuck me!

Ryan had learned the true werewolf form. He threw back his head and howled, the sound echoing through the forest and across the river. It was a primal, bone-chilling cry that seemed to shake the very earth beneath our feet. Men on the other side of the river cringed, as did a few on this side. My wolf chuffed in satisfaction inside of me.

Mine , she said.

Yes, ours.

As Ryan's howl faded into the wind, Brock stepped back from the riverbank, a smirk playing across his face. He signaled to his right. I glanced across as a unit of about forty, all in human form, moved. Those on the front line pulled back, letting those behind them come forward. They were carrying something, though. My blood ran cold as I saw what it was. Machine guns. Six of them.

Time slowed down as I realized what was about to happen. There was no way they were not loaded with silver bullets. I had a second to think We're dead , and then they opened fire .

Beside me, Ryan moved with lightning speed, throwing himself in front of me. I caught a glimpse of Derek sprinting towards Sofia. I knew it was too late, though. We were all about to die. I had failed them, my family, my friends, my Pack. As Alpha, I had led them here to be slaughtered. I wrapped my arms around Ryan. At least we would die together.

The sound of gunfire was deafening, a relentless barrage that seemed to go on forever. I braced myself for the impact, for the searing pain of bullets tearing through flesh and bone. But it never came.

I lifted my head and peeked round Ryan's chest. The bullets were hitting an invisible barrier a few feet in front of our front line, stopping dead in their tracks and falling harmlessly to the ground. I stared in disbelief, my mind racing to understand what was happening.

Someone had to be doing this. That's when I saw her, Esme, standing rigid on the far left of our formation, her arms outstretched and her face contorted with effort. Sweat poured down her brow. What the hell was she doing here? She was supposed to be back in Three Rivers, safe in Sofia's apartment.

Her strained voice whispered in my mind. "I can't hold it for long."

I didn't have time to think about how she was talking in my head; I just knew that we had to kill the gunners before Esme lost control of the spell.

I didn't hesitate.

"Jase! Guard Esme with your life!" I yelled as I ducked round Ryan and sprinted for the river, my legs pumping faster than they ever had before. Despite the roar of the gunfire, my mind was clear, my vision sharp. I had locked on to the gunners. They were my prey now, and it was us or them .

Ryan must have worked it out too; he overtook me in a blur of motion. I watched as Ryan leaped, his powerful leg muscles propelling him forward with incredible force. He soared over the river, his massive form seeming to hang suspended in the air for an impossibly long moment. The sight of him, a true werewolf in all his fearsome glory, was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

He landed on the other side of the river, and even the ground on this side shook. He let out a roar that echoed through the forest, a sound that was both a challenge and a declaration of his dominance.

I hit the river a moment later. There was no way I could make that jump; I dove into the water, the icy chill shocking the breath from my lungs. I heard the splash of my Pack following close behind me.

My muscles burned with the effort, but I pushed through the pain. All that mattered was stopping those gunners.

I climbed out of the river, water dripping from my clothes as I scrambled up the bank. Ahead of me, I saw Ryan making a path through Brock's army, his massive form cleaving through their ranks like a hot knife through butter. Bodies flew through the air as he tossed them aside, his claws and teeth ripping into anyone who dared to stand in his way.

It was clear that Brock's army had not been prepared for Ryan's attack, or for the sheer power and ferocity of his werewolf form. They had thought that the guns would be enough to kill us all, and that had given us a small but crucial element of surprise.

I had only a moment to take in the scene before I was charged by ten wolves, their teeth bared. I braced myself for the impact, knowing that in my human form, I stood little chance against them, but I'd fight every last fucking one of them to get to those gunners and protect my Pack.

Just as one of the wolves leaped towards me, a blur of motion intercepted it in midair. Mason, in his wolf form, slammed into the side of the attacker, throwing the two of them to the side, locked in a whirlwind of snapping teeth and slashing claws.

From my left, Derek and Sam flooded past me, interrupting the oncoming wolves.

I sprinted after Ryan, following the path of destruction he had left in his wake. On either side of me, more wolves from our Pack flanked me, Ava and Raphael in the lead.

As we ran, enemy wolves and humans tried to attack us from all sides. But wolves from my Pack veered off each time to intercept them.

I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the thrill of the fight singing in my blood. Even in my human form, I felt a connection to my wolf, to the primal power and instinct that flowed through us both.

As I reached the gunner station, the scene before me was one of utter carnage. Dead bodies littered the ground. Some of the remaining gunners were still firing their weapons, but the bullets stopped just a few inches from the end of the barrel, falling to the ground. How was she doing this?

As if in answer, Esme's voice whispered in my mind once more.

"Hurry, Mai. The weight is too much, too strong. I won't last long now."

As I watched, one of the gunners swung his machine gun towards Ryan, desperate to take him down. Without thinking, I leaped and swung my arm. Claws erupted from my fingers just as I found the man's throat and I tore it out in a spray of blood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a barrel swing toward me. I took two steps forward, then leaped, spinning in the air above the gunner, and landing on his back. I'd snapped his head before he hit the ground.

I looked round to see the last of the gunners fall under Sam's claws. We'd done it. Ryan was already moving among the fallen weapons, systematically bending and snapping the barrels to make they could never be used against us again.

As I turned to survey the rest of the battlefield, my eyes locked with Brock's across the open space on the west bank. Even from this distance, I could see the fury etched into every line of his face, the hatred that burned in his eyes.

Then Brock Shifted. From one blink to the next, he changed from a human to a massive creature that stood eight feet tall. He was stockier and bulkier than Ryan's werewolf form, a writhing mass of muscles and strength. It was a killing machine, designed for one purpose only: to destroy. His army turned and looked at him, all of them waiting for his signal.

"Fuck!"

In that moment, I realized two things: that Ryan wasn't the only one who'd learned a new trick; and that the army that Brock had brought with him was not just a collection of individual fighters, it was his Pack. He had melded the rogue werewolves he had picked up along the way into a true Pack. With Brock as their Alpha.

With a roar of rage, Brock pointed at Ryan and me, a command his Pack could not ignore.

As one, they turned and charged towards us.