46. Mai

Chapter forty-six

Mai

I didn't feel scared anymore. This was it. This was the moment I'd been waiting for, the chance to finally face Brock and make him pay.

Images flashed through my mind—Arabella, rail-thin, strapped to a hospital bed, straining against her bonds; Noreen, her sister, quietly weeping; Jem, a shadow of his former self, sobbing over his lost mate; Brock landing a roundhouse kick on Ryan's head. The pain he'd inflicted on my Pack, on the people I loved most in this world; and his twisted vision for the future of all werewolves, with himself as the Wolf King, ruling over us all.

My body thrummed with anticipation, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. Inside me, my wolf was snarling with a fierce, primal rage. She wanted Brock dead, and so did I. We were in perfect agreement, united in our thirst for vengeance and our determination to protect our mate and our Pack at all costs.

Ryan was at my side, and our bond exploded, a searing, white-hot connection that seemed to set my very soul ablaze. My Pack bonds followed; a web of connections that stretched out from me in every direction, linking me to each and every one of my Pack. I could feel their presence, their strength and their courage, their fears, flowing through me like an electric current. We were one, a single entity bound together by love and loyalty, by the unbreakable ties of family and Pack. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before, a sensation of pure power and unity that left me breathless.

I didn't need to say a word, didn't need to give any commands out loud. Instead, I reached out with my mind, urging my Pack forward with a silent, irresistible call. As one, they responded, each of us taking that first step together. Then another until we were sprinting towards Brock's Pack.

This fight was no longer about us and Brock, about our personal vendettas and the history between us. This was a war between two Packs, a battle for dominance and survival that would determine the fate of us all.

Ryan and I hit the front lines of Brock's army like a hammer, our speed and ferocity catching them off guard. Without a thought, I surrendered to the rage. Adrenaline surged through my body, heightening my awareness of every movement on the battlefield. Beside me, Ryan towered over the battlefield in his true werewolf form, his massive frame rippling with muscle and raw power.

I lost myself in the rhythm of the fight, my body moving on pure instinct as I ducked and weaved, my claws finding flesh and bone with each lightning-fast strike. A coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, and I spat it out, never breaking my stride. The scent of blood and fear hung heavy in the air, mingling with the odor of wet fur and sweat, of Pack, and enemies to slay .

There was no room for mercy or hesitation here—every blow was struck with lethal intent, every move calculated to kill.

To my left, Ryan was a force of nature, his massive claws and teeth rending through the enemy ranks. It was so graceful, almost like a dance, his movements precise and deadly, a blur of speed and power.

I caught a glimpse of Jem through the chaos, standing tall in the sea of battle. He was holding his own, his body a whirlwind as he went for those in Brock's Pack that were still in human form.

I saw a flash of movement to my side and whirled just in time to avoid the snapping jaws of a massive black wolf. It lunged again, but I sidestepped and raked my claws across its flank, feeling the hot spray of blood on my face.

The wolf yelped in pain and fury, its eyes blazing with rage as it circled back for another attack. But before it could strike, Ryan was there, his massive jaws clamping down on the wolf's neck with a sickening crunch.

I had no time to catch my breath, no time to process the carnage around me. The enemy just kept coming, wave after wave of them, each more desperate and ferocious than the last.

Ryan and I fought our way, slowly, one wolf at a time, through the seething mass of enemies, our bond guiding us to work together. I could feel Ryan's presence in my mind, a constant, reassuring thread that kept me focused and centered amidst the chaos.

As a pair of wolves charged towards me, their jaws snapping and their eyes wild with bloodlust, I felt a sudden, urgent tug on our bond. Without thinking, I dropped to the ground, rolling to the side just as Ryan leaped over me, his massive frame slamming into the wolves with bone-crushing force .

I sprang back to my feet, my claws flashing as I slashed at another wolf that had tried to take advantage of my momentary distraction. The wolf howled in pain, staggering back with blood streaming from a deep gash across its muzzle.

The wolves fell before us like wheat before the scythe, their bodies broken and bleeding as we pressed our advantage. Through it all, our bond sang with a fierce, exultant joy, a connection that went beyond mere words or thoughts.

We moved unrelentingly towards our ultimate target—Brock. Time stopped, everything narrowed down to the next punch, the next neck to snap, the next ribs to break. And then, suddenly, there he was—Brock, towering over the battlefield in his true werewolf form, his eyes blazing with a hatred that was matched by mine. Ryan let out a roar of challenge and surged forward. Their bodies collided in a clash of titans, shaking the earth beneath our feet.

For a moment, I could do nothing but watch in awe as the two giants battled, their massive forms rolling and tumbling over the smaller wolves and humans caught in their path. This was a fight that was spoken of only in legends, a primal struggle for dominance and control.

But I didn't have time to gawk. With a feral snarl, I darted in, my claws flashing as I slashed at Brock's flanks and back.

Brock roared in pain and fury, his head whipping around to snap at me, but I was too fast, dancing out of reach and circling back for another strike. Ryan pressed his advantage, his claws raking deep gouges across Brock's chest and belly.

Back and forth we fought, Ryan and I moving in perfect synch, our bond singing with a fierce, savage joy. We were a team, unstoppable and unbeatable, and Brock was starting to falter beneath our relentless assault.

With a roar of pure rage, Brock slammed into Ryan with the force of a freight train. Ryan staggered back, his claws scrabbling for purchase on the blood-slick ground as he tried to regain his balance.

I leaped, landing on Brock's back. He twisted, his jaws clamped down on my shoulder, his fangs sinking deep into my flesh and grazing bone. I screamed in pain, my vision going white as agony lanced through my body.

Dimly, I heard Ryan's roar of fury as he crashed into us. Brock was ready for him, his claws slashing out in a blur of speed and power. I felt a hot flash of pain through our bond, and the scent of Ryan's blood filled the air.

A flicker of fear tickled me, a cold, creeping dread that threatened to extinguish the flames of my rage.

No! My wolf howled inside of me.

I wrenched myself free from Brock's jaws, ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder as I lunged forward, my claws slashing at his eyes and muzzle. Beside me, Ryan surged to his feet, his own claws and fangs flashing as he launched himself at Brock's flank.

Brock roared, twisting and thrashing, as he tried to shake us off. I hung on for a moment, before he reached round, grabbed me and threw me off. I flew to the side, soaring over two wolves scrapping below. They looked as shocked as me to see me fly over them. I landed hard, knocking the air out of me.

Fuck, that hurt!

Up. I had to get up. Pushing myself up on one hand, I saw Ryan's claws rake deep gouges across Brock's chest, but Brock retaliated with a savage swipe that sent Ryan twisting back, blood pouring from a gash above his eye.

I staggered to my feet, ignoring the pain that lanced through my shoulder and the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me. I had to help Ryan, had to find some way to turn the tide of this battle before it was too late.

Ryan kicked out, his foot smacking into Brock's chest. Brock flew back, rolled and came up snarling. He looked from Ryan to me, and I could see his calculation. I was closer. In this form, I was weaker. With me dead, he could pick Ryan off in his own time. Brock bounded toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan sprinting for me. He wouldn't get here in time.

That was okay. Brock was owed some time with my fists.

I snarled and ran to meet Brock. Just before he barreled into me, Ryan's arm snaked around my waist, swinging me out of Brock's way. I felt a rush of hot air as Brock's jaws snapped shut inches from my face. Then Jem dashed past me. I caught a glimpse of his face contorted in a mask of pure rage as he rammed into Brock.

I watched in horror as Jem drove Brock to the ground, straddled his chest, his fists slamming into Brock's face with a sickening, meaty thud. Jem grabbed Brock's head and slammed it against the ground again and again, until his skull cracked, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Even then, Jem didn't stop. Just kept smashing Brock's head into the ground until it was unrecognizable, just a pile of meat, brains, and bits of skull.

Beside me, Ryan started to laugh, a deep, booming sound that echoed across the battlefield. I looked at him in shock, but he just grinned at me, his eyes sparkling with a fierce, savage joy.