Chapter 13: Chapter 13

LUXURY

By the time we reached the pack house, most of the village had gone quiet.

Selene slowed near the entrance, her breath coming in soft, controlled exhales.

She was nervous.

Of what came next.

Of what she should say.

What she wanted to say.

I shifted the weight of the supplies, setting them down. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Selene scoffed. “I wasn’t going to.”

I smirked. “Of course.”

She picked up the remaining bundles but didn’t leave. She stayed beside me, like she was waiting.

I wasn’t sure which one of us broke first.

“Why did you push me away?”

She wasn’t asking about the marketplace. She was asking about before. About us.

I took a slow breath. “Because I had to.”

Selene was silent. Then, quietly, “Did you, though?”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “Yes.”

Another pause.

And then she whispered, “Liar.”

The word sent a sharp pang through my ribs. Because she was right. Before I could respond, before I could decide whether to fight her on it or let her win, she stepped closer.

Too close.

I clenched my fists.

Fought the pull.

But then, she adjusted the bundle in her arms, stepped around me, and walked toward the pack house.

Leaving me standing there.

Breathless. Burning. Fucking ruined.

Because Selene didn’t need to see my face to know the truth. She had felt it. And there was no going back from that.

I stood frozen, my pulse thrumming, torn between restraint and the raw, undeniable instinct clawing at my insides.

Then—a shift in the wind. The scent of fear. Rapid footsteps.

~“Alpha!”~

A young wolf barreled toward me, breath ragged, heartbeat erratic. Riven. A newer scout, barely eighteen, sharp with panic.

I turned before he could skid to a stop. “Speak.”

He gasped. “The borders—Beta Erik sent word—” He sucked in a breath. “The humans, Alpha. They’re here.”

Tension coiled through my body.

Not just here. Not just watching.

Attacking.

“How many?” My voice was flat, deadly.

“Too many,” Riven choked out. “They came with weapons, with coordination. Erik and the others tried to hold them back, but—”

His throat bobbed. “We had to fall back.”

I didn’t hesitate. I turned sharply, already moving.

“Get to the stronghold. Sound the call.”

The scout bolted.

And the moment he did, the first gunshot rang out.

The pack house erupted. Shouts. Footsteps. The sharp, metallic scent of blood already thick in the air. Wolves sprang into action. I’d trained them for this. Warned them.

A month ago, when Erik had interrupted me and Selene, it was to tell me the humans were closing in.

I’d prepared for an attack.

But not this soon.

Not like this.

I moved fast, tracking the shifts in the air, the scattered movement of my wolves forming ranks. A sharp crack shattered the night—gunfire—followed by the pained yelp of one of my own.

A snarl ripped through my chest.

They had silver rounds.

~Cowards.~

The acrid bite of chemicals clung to the air, burning my lungs as I tore forward. It wasn’t the thick, charred scent of burning powder like the old weapons of centuries past. No, this was ~sharper~, ~synthetic~, a stench that didn’t belong in the wild. It reeked of ~man-made death.~

I reached the outer gates just as the first wave of humans broke through. These weren’t the lone poachers we had dealt with before. They moved in formation—tight, calculated, efficient.

Trained.

Coordinated.

I could ~hear~ it in their movements, in the way their boots struck the earth with purpose, the way they didn’t hesitate. Each step was measured, each shot precise.

This wasn’t just another incursion.

This was an ~attack.~

But the moment they saw me, something ~changed.~

It was subtle, but I ~felt~ it—the hesitation, the ~instinctive~ recoil in their ranks. They had come expecting wolves. They had prepared for beasts on all fours, for fangs and claws tearing from the shadows.

They hadn’t expected ~me.~

A sharp ~click~—a safety being released. The slight shift of weight as a rifle barrel was raised, the near-silent ~adjustment~ before a shot was fired.

I moved first.

Fast. ~Brutal.~

The first hunter barely had time to ~breathe~ before I was on him.

I didn’t shift fully. ~I didn’t need to.~ My body twisted, bones snapping, but I didn’t fall to all fours—I didn’t ~lose~ myself to the beast. Instead, I let the ~power~ take shape where I needed it most. My fingers stretched, nails lengthening into ~claws~ that curved sharp and lethal. My spine straightened, shoulders broadening, a silent ~declaration~ of dominance, of something ~not quite man, not quite wolf—something more.~

My claws tore through flesh with terrifying ease, parting muscle, slicing deep as he ~choked~ on his own breath. Blood splattered across my forearm, but I was already moving, wrenching his weapon from his grip and ~driving~ my elbow into his skull. The crack of bone was swallowed by the chaos, by the howls of my wolves and the gunfire that still rang through the trees.

He hit the dirt, unconscious before his body even settled.

Another moved to attack.

I smelled the ~silver~ before I saw the blade.

I ~twisted~ at the last second, dodging just as the knife ~whistled~ past my ribs.

I landed hard, dug my claws into the earth to steady myself, and ~struck again.~

One.

Two.

Another.

Another.

Blood sprayed against the dirt.

Their formation faltered.

Good.

Fear me.

I lifted my head, breathing deep, assessing. I could feel my wolves fighting around me. Could hear the snarls of my warriors clashing against steel, against gunfire, against men who didn’t understand what they were trying to kill.

Sadly, for them, they’d never live to know.

The hunters had come prepared.

But not for me.

Not for an alpha.

The ground beneath me was wet with blood—some of it theirs, some of it ours. The sharp tang of iron and gunpowder burned my nose, the air thick with smoke and fury. But none of it slowed me.

Because I was faster.

Because I was ~better~.

I heard the rush of movement behind me before the attack came. The subtle shift of air pressure as a blade swung toward my back.

Too slow.

I curved my body, grabbing the arm mid-swing, and yanked the man toward me with a sickening crack of his shoulder socket. He screamed, but the sound barely left his lips before I slammed a clawed hand into his throat.

Another scent, to my right. Someone lunging.

I ducked, my body moving on instinct, grabbing a rifle before it could fire. The man holding it hesitated for half a second. It was a mistake. I wrenched the gun from his grip, flipped it, and fired.

The bullet buried itself in his chest, silver-coated but wasted on the wrong species.

The body fell at my feet.

A sharp pain tore through my side. I grunted, instinctively reaching down, and my fingers came away warm and wet.

Silver.

The blade must have skimmed my ribs, slicing deep enough to wound but not deep enough to slow me.

Not yet.

I rolled my shoulders, adjusting my stance as the remaining hunters regrouped, the stench of their fear thick in the air.

They thought they could wait me out.

Wear me down.

I could hear the slight shake in their breathing, the way their movements had become more hesitant, their ranks frantic as they realized that the wolves weren’t breaking.

That I wasn’t breaking.

Some of them knew it. They understood that they had made a mistake. I could feel it in the ones that started backing away, turning on their heels and fleeing into the trees.

I let them.

The ones who ran weren’t worth my time. They had already lost.

But the others—the ones still clutching their weapons, their resolve stiffened by arrogance or desperation—they had made a different choice.

They thought they could still win.

They thought wrong.

I exhaled once, slow, controlled.

And then I let go.

A snap of power, a pulse of heat. The shift came easily—like slipping into a second skin, like answering a call that had echoed in my bones since birth.

Bones cracked.

Muscles stretched.

The air pulsed as my body changed, bending into something stronger. Faster. Lethal.

And then I stood on all fours.

Massive.

Unstoppable.

I knew my fur was white as snow, stark against the blood-splattered ground.

The world sharpened—not in sight, but in everything else.

I felt their hesitation, their shallow breaths, the way their bodies tensed.

Run. Or fight.

I bared my teeth.

They chose wrong.

I was on them before they could react.

A panicked shout—too late.

I lunged.

My teeth tore through the first man’s shoulder, the weight of my body crushing him beneath me. A sharp, wet crack—his spine giving way. Another moved behind me. My claws ripped through his abdomen before his knife could reach my side.

Blood sprayed across my fur, warm and sticky.

A gun clicked into place. I snapped my jaws around his wrist, bone shattering beneath my teeth.

The shot fired into the sky as he screamed.

Another.

Another.

The ones who tried to fight were torn apart, their bodies crumpling into the dirt. By the time the last bodies fell, silence stretched through the forest. Only the scent of blood and the distant sound of retreating footsteps remained.

We had won.

The last hunter ran.

I let him.

For five steps.

Then I caught him. Took him down. I could have ended it there, but I didn’t.

I pressed my weight into him, let my fangs graze his throat as he trembled, his pulse hammering with terror. His ribs expanded with every breath, his chest stuttering as he realized—he wasn’t walking away from this.

A low growl rumbled from my chest, vibrating through him, letting him know, in his final moments, exactly what kind of monster he had tried to hunt.

And then—I ended it.

The air was thick with blood and fire.

The pack house still stood, but the battle had left its scars.

Bodies littered the ground.

Some were ours.

Most were theirs.

I took a slow breath, my body thrumming with the lingering pulse of the fight.

I should have shifted back.

Should have given the order to regroup.

But then—

A sound. Soft. Unsteady.

A heartbeat too fast. A scent, familiar.

Selene.

She was here. Too close.

I turned, my massive form still pulsing with adrenaline. She stood at the clearing’s edge, tense, breath uneven.

Her scent was laced with fear.

Not of the blood.

Not of the battle.

Of me.

Of Fen.

I hadn’t thought about what I must have looked like. What she must have seen. My fur, soaked in red. My teeth bared, dripping with blood. The bodies at my feet.

I waited for her to speak.

She didn’t.

She just stood there.

Frozen.

Shaken.

And for the first time since the fight began…I felt it. The weight of what I was. What I’d just done.

I took a slow step toward her.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t run.

But she flinched—just slightly—when I lowered my head toward her.

And fuck—that single, barely-there reaction cut deeper than any silver blade ever could.