14 - Danger

Rowan

My sleep is a broken one; dreams melting and contorting into one another like a whirlpool of chaos.

I hear a soft knock, voices in the dark — muffled and rushed — and I can't quite work out if I'm dreaming or awake. Clarity is a fog seeping through my fingers.

"...need to get out of here," one voice, vaguely recognisable, murmurs. "That wolf River and Rowan found, it's not the first and it won't be the last."

"Darius asked for my help, Milo," another voice retorts. I know it. Matteo. "I can't leave now. Not with the hunters—"

"Fuck the hunters. They aren't the problem. I only let you in because I thought he'd have the decency to send you away, or at least tell you the truth, but he hasn't. He wants you to die like the rest of us."

"What truth? Milo?"

Howls — distant and forlorn — break the quiet. I'm falling head-first into a thick, confusing dream of knives and fur and shadows and chaos.

Thundering footsteps, gasping voices. I only manage to catch a few words. Hunters. Woods. Patrol.

I startle to clarity as the door crashes open— abruptly wide-awake — only to find the chaotic dream has manifested itself all around me. Distant howls, footsteps racing further into the house, Matteo's panicked voice in the doorway.

"Ro, wake up! The hunters are here!"

Without waiting for an answer, his silhouette darts out of sight, further down the hall. I hear him barge into Kay's room, then Lachlan's, on a mission to rouse us all. My focus snaps to the other side of the bed and the rising panic within me reaches a crescendo.

Empty. River's gone.

"Fuck," I hiss, a shock of ice jolting down my spine as I stumble out of bed and shrug on a shirt and shoes.

Teo is back in the doorway, wild-eyed and alert. Over his shoulder, Kay and Lachlan are gathered in bleary determination. Their attention fixes on the empty bed and their eyes flicker gold with the echo of their wolves.

"Is River out there already?" Lachlan asks, all of them backing up as I approach with steadfast strides. My wolf stirs in the back on my head, hackles raised. River's gone and hunters are attacking.

Terror seizes my chest, stealing my breath. "I don't know. Come on."

There's no time to think, to do anything but rush outside towards the bedlam. The house and clearing outside are a cacophony of chaos with werewolves either racing into the woods or darting out of them for safety. Darius, Milo and Imogen race alongside us into the dark woods.

Electric fear hisses through my veins. I know River can handle himself, but hearing the distant sounds of a fight echoing through the trees and knowing he could be in the thick of it— it's a special form of torture. A nightmare I can't wake up from.

What if the wolves turn on him? What if the hunters are too strong, or there's too many of them? What if he isn't here at all? What if he's gone to Lakeside already?

Gunshots crack through the woods. Broken howls and snarls light the cool air.

My wolf scratches at his confines, yipping and whining for release. I urge him back and race on, pouring on as much speed as I can muster. Shifting will waste time I do not have.

We dart down shadowed trails, every bush a figure looming in the dark, every groaning branch a wail for help. The sounds of fighting rise into a crescendo and cut off with a fractured scream not too far away. It's over. At last, when my lungs burn and my thoughts are aflame, I breach a clearing and skid to a stop, catching at a trunk to steady myself.

I stare out at utter chaos, trying fervently to think through the panic.

Like a beacon, River tugs at every shred of my focus. Shoulders heaving, dark hair tousled, form splattered with an alarming amount of blood, belt empty of knives save one clutched in his fist. His torn jumper sleeves have been rolled up, exposing skin alight with streaks of lightning. His eyes are glassy pools of silver that fix on us all at once. He stands in the centre of a ring of contorted bodies— humans and wolves alike. Blood drenches the ground. Rustling trees whisper to one another all around.

His Haze is terrifying yet gorgeous; an unyielding storm.

Huddled in the shadows of the far trees, timid wolves stare out at him. Hackles raised, whines in their throats, golden eyes fluorescing in the dark. Their fur shimmers with blood but they don't appear fatally hurt— merely scared. They're the wolves on patrol— or at least the ones remaining.

I start forwards, River's name forming on my lips.

Darius has the nerve to crowd in front of me, to plant his hand on my chest and say, "Hold on. That's not your fated, right now. That's something else."

I glare at him as Lach, Kay and Teo bristle— either at his hand or his words. "I know who he is. Take your hand off me."

He does, but he doesn't step out of my way. Over his shoulder, I see River watching on, an absent curiosity stirring behind those mercury eyes, perhaps checking for a threat in the alpha. His grip on the knife is tight and unyielding; his focus is an unwavering spotlight.

Even though the hunters are dead, his Haze doesn't so much as flicker.

I move forwards and, this time, Darius backs down with raised hands and an expression caught between intrigue and dread. "River, it's alright. They're gone," I assure my fated.

Walking towards him when he's Hazing feels as though warring instincts are tearing me in two. One part of me recognises the threat— the possibility that he could lose control and snap just like the first time the Haze took him. And yet the other part of me shoves past that wariness. He is my fated, and I am his. I trust him with my life.

His empty silver eyes slide across the treeline, absently surveying.

Lachlan, Matteo and Kay know by now that River's Haze is not something to take lightly. If he sees these unfamiliar wolves as threats, there's not much we can do to stop him. This suspicion is in his blood.

Mercifully, Darius' pack recognise the threat in his empty eyes, in his tensed, lithe form poised for another fight. They stay well back, crowded and hidden in the foliage, and don't follow me.

There's no hesitation in my stride. No wariness in my features.

My gaze drops down to his torso, drawn to the dark patches of blood staining his clothes. The fabric is torn, dishevelled, and my close attention reveals something that grabs hold of my chest and squeezes relentlessly— or, rather, two things. Bullet-holes.

My breath shudders past my lips. "Holy shit. Holy shit."

River follows my gaze and hums tonelessly, studying the holes — one in his side, one in the muscle of his shoulder — as though they're mere scratches. Not at all concerned about the possibility of bleeding out, he shoves his knife, dripping with blood and grizzle, back into the belt at his waist and turns to pick up the rest, but I'm right there with him, catching at his good arm to better study the injuries.

His mirrored eyes flash a warning— nothing like the feral fury with which he glares at those he calls enemies, but rather akin to a wolf baring his fangs to warn a pup not to get too boisterous. Be careful, his eyes snap. There's no threat of danger in the look, just warring impatience and frustration. Tension crackles in the air around us, though I expect it's more from Darius and his pack watching on.

"Can you come back to me, River? The hunters— they're gone." I try and coax his Haze to fade, hoping that hearing his name and having me near and the very obvious lack of people trying to kill him will help him rise out of the silver shadows enshrouding him. He's been shot — twice — and he's losing blood. A lot of blood. I need him to come back to me. I need to make sure he's alright.

But his Haze lurks stubbornly, a line of tension ripples his dark brows, and he says, "It isn't over."

The cryptic words have barely left him when a sound rises on the air— one that has the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rising. A wailing, shrieking, guttural noise vaguely resembling a howl or a snarl or something caught in between.

There's something wrong about it. Something twisted. Something that has my wolf growling in the back of my head, pushing against his boundaries for escape. Danger, he snarls. My eyes fluoresce golden as he clambers for release.

In a streak of silver lightning, River darts for the noise, knife in hand once more. I breathe a curse and race after him, thundering footsteps and snapping twigs alerting me to shadows at my heels.

"Get back to the den!" Darius barks his orders several paces behind. "Rowan, stop! Stop!"

Like hell.

River slips through the woods like a vengeful blur and the distance between us stretches despite my best efforts. My wolf howls and scratches at his confines, demanding I let him out. Danger, danger, danger, he insists. Do not lose him.

I'm trying.

Darius' booming commands sound further back, but still I hear footsteps closing in. I dare not glance back for fear of losing River. He darts and weaves through shrubs and trees, one with the air around him. One lapse in my pace or concentration and he'll slip beyond my sight. I won't let that happen. Whatever's out here, he won't face it alone.

"The fuck was that?" Lachlan gasps, his voice coming from a pace or two behind me.

"Not a clue," Teo retorts, breathless.

"Riv, wait!" Kay calls, a desperate edge to their voice. "Fucking hell, he can run."

Relief spears through me at their familiar voices, drowning out the fear. I don't know what the hell we're racing towards, but at least I'm not facing it alone.

All at once, River skids to a halt just up ahead, catching himself against a tree trunk. I just about manage to stop without crashing into him, and Lach, Matteo and Kay follow close behind, catching themselves against my back and one another. River doesn't seem to notice any of us— his attention is fixed before him.

I follow his gaze and look out onto something plucked from a nightmare.

A dark, hulking shadow huddles over a slump form of blood and fur and grizzle— something that takes a precious few seconds for me to recognise as a wolf, or at least the remnants of one. Sounds reach me first; gurgling, scraping, crunching, snapping. Then the stench hits. A rotting, putrid, blood-soaked haze that has me forcing back a gag. It's the same scent we caught last night, only worse.

And then Darius' voice echoes through the woods — a distant order drawing closer — and the creature's head snaps up towards us.

River's Haze is a gorgeous yet deadly display— an angel of death you can't help but find beautiful even as he holds your life in his hands. But this creature fixes its glowing crimson eyes upon us and a shock of terror turns my veins to ice. It's something else, something older, something horrifying. If River is an angel of death, this thing is a plague longing to strip me apart bit by bit. A cursed creature.

It stares us down and rises onto its hind legs, its horrific form growing foot by foot until it towers over us; a bulky seven-foot frame ripped from a nightmare and cast before us.

Matted tufts of grey fur cover skin that stretches taut over a sinewy form. The proportions are all wrong. Its arms hang down to its knees, six-inch claws dripping blood jutting from each finger. From a snarling jackal-like snout protrude fangs frothing with blood and grizzle. It's a horrific caricature of a wolf.

We all shrink backwards on instinct. I crowd in front of Lachlan, Matteo and Kay, forcing them behind me, and River moves to cover me. I grab hold of his good shoulder, just in case. Haze or not, if that thing lunges, I'm dragging him to safety— wherever that is.

His knife splits the air in two and buries into the creature's broad chest with a wet thunk. The monster howls in rage, falling back only a pace or two before ripping the blade out with a huge paw and tossing it aside. The roar it sends our way rattles my bones in their sockets.

On River's exposed arms, the interconnected web of symbols and runes and lightning strikes surges a brilliant, blazing white. The beast stares at him and backs up half a step.

I'm hardly aware of their arrival — too focused on the nightmare before me — but Darius and Milo skid to a stop beside us, breathing heavily. One of them curses softly.

My blood has gone ice-cold in my veins, and for a horrific moment, I think the beast is going to charge. The hole in its chest closes up as though nothing was there. It stares at my fated, fury an inferno blazing behind its eyes until, with a final hair-raising snarl, it lopes into the bushes opposite.

The dark woods swallow it whole.

For a moment that stretches on and on, there is nothing but silence.

River slips through my fingers, stalking forwards like the cold promise of death.

"Riv—" I begin to argue, reaching for him. There's no way I'm letting him go after that thing alone.

But instead of racing after the beast, he strides for his knife, snatches it up, and whirls on us all. Fury dances in his silver eyes; a searing flame.

His glare is fixated upon Darius. For a moment, I'm expecting the air to cut in two, for the blade to find its way into the alpha's exposed neck, but nothing happens.

When River speaks, his voice is a low, dangerous hiss that sends a shiver scuttling down my spine.

"What the ever-loving fuck was that?"