27 - Retribution

This time, when the Haze descends a choking fog, it's cruel enough to keep my consciousness at the forefront.

The frightening speed with which I wrestle back the upper hand both impresses and terrifies the corner of my mind where I've been shoved to. Alessandro is a threat and my body moves without input— twisting out of Elijah's hold and wrenching the knife from his grip, I throw myself at the alpha, pin him down, and shove the knife up to the hilt into his neck. It's fast and brutal.

I twist and twist, my eyes on fire as I glare down at him. Warm, thick blood drenches my fist.

Screams and shouts echo all around me.

Alessandro stares at me with wide eyes, gurgling on bubbles of blood spraying from his mouth.

I do not have my silver, but I can make him bleed. I can make this injury impossible to heal from—

A blur as Natalia rips me off her fated and shoves me to the ground, shaking with rage and a wild snarl in her throat. I roll away from a punch aimed at my head, twist onto my knees, and haul her into a chokehold. I wrench and twist until something snaps, until her form melts uselessly against mine and her struggles cease.

I don't need silver, after all.

"You bastard!" Alessandro chokes out, his voice a rush of strangled breath. He's ripped the blade from his neck and tossed it aside, and even as blood pours down his throat, he shoves me back and cradles his lifeless mate to his crimson chest.

All around, the clearing is a maelstrom of chaos. Werewolves throw themselves at one another, wolves prowl and snarl and collide in a blur of fangs and claws. I hear my name, desperate and trembling, and see Rowan in the carnage.

He's managed to break free of Lachlan's hold and fights his way towards me, but Duskland are feral and mourning the loss of their luna and they're throwing themselves at their enemies. The alliance is broken, they're on enemy land, and they fight to the death to grapple back some semblance of control.

He cannot reach me. He's pulled into fight after fight, each more gruesome than the last.

Thoughts are burning embers that drift just out of reach, at the whim of a gale tearing clarity to shreds.

I turn my back on him, snatch up the knife, and use it to slit Alessandro's throat.

It's too much blood, too quickly. He cannot heal— not when his mate is dead and his world is falling apart. He chokes on a scream and shudders and collapses to the sodden ground with his luna clutched into a lifeless embrace.

My focus snaps towards the sound of a gut-wrenching scream. Elsie.

She stumbles into a run as I approach, shoving aside Duskland and Crescent Moon alike in a futile effort to escape me.

I follow like a stubborn shadow.

Bodies throw themselves at me— my knife slashes without conscious thought and my focus stays locked on her as I make quick work of the distractions. They fall beneath my fury. The lichtenberg figures crawl a little further— searing my skin.

Right as she breaks the crowds of fighting bodies and darts for the woods, I send the knife flying and it buries between her shoulder blades with a wet thunk and a scream of agony. She drops and pushes herself up on trembling arms. Blood trickles down her back.

Elation rips through me. I'm unstoppable, in the heart of a werewolf feud, and no one can keep me from finishing it all.

As she gasps and struggles to crawl away from me, I take the hilt and rip the blade from her back. Tossing it in lazy circles, I watch as she turns and crawls backwards, keeping me in her sights as she struggles to escape. Tears stream down her cheeks and she's gasping on pleads.

I have all the time in the world and advance on her with slow, certain strides. My eyes blaze; bottled lightning zips through my veins; power surges in my razor-edged nerves.

Just as her back hits a tree trunk, just as my eyes gleam with victory and a stifled sob rushes from her when she realises she's trapped, a man steps between us.

Beau's form ripples with energy and he's covered in blood, but he raises a trembling hand towards me and says, "Stray, please. That's enough."

"Get out of my way." The voice that rushes from me isn't my own— it's muffled and laced with venom and not a shred of recognition.

He shakes his head and falls into a defensive stance, keeping himself between me and the girl. "I'm not going to do that."

My grip on the knife stiffens and, even though every inch of me recoils at the thought of hurting him, I cannot stop myself from raising the knife, ready to throw.

He merely stares at me, the intensity behind his gaze too bright to look at. My fist trembles as I fight to claw back some echo of control.

I'm going to kill him and I can't stop myself.

I'm tackled from behind and land hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of me and the knife torn from my grip. It skitters across the grass.

"Love, be careful!" Beau rushes out as I fight to free myself, scrabbling in the dirt for my knife.

Morgan has me pinned. "River, what the fuck are you doing—?" she hisses.

"It's not him. Not completely. Just— keep him there," Beau explains, dropping to his knees and helping his fated hold me down. I struggle wildly.

"What?"

"He called it a... a Haze, or something. A hunter thing, I'm guessing."

"Well, how the hell do we snap him out of it?"

"We, uh... we haven't exactly figured that out, just yet."

I throw my head back and hear a gratifying crack and a grunt of pain. Their hold loosens just enough for me to throw everything I have at them. I twist and kick and throw punches and shove them off me— a blur of savage fury.

Elsie is frozen at the base of the tree, trembling like a leaf out in a hurricane. She shrinks back as I rise, but before I can start for her, I'm hauled back into a strong boulder of an embrace. For fuck's sake.

"River, stop this," Lachlan demands, tightening his hold on me when I struggle against him. "Fight it!"

Beau limps to his feet with a gratifying wince, clutching at his crotch. "He's got good aim," he gasps out, helping Morgan up, who clutches her bloody nose and glares at me.

"Get him inside," she orders.

They're all making the same mistake. They get me pinned but it's not strong enough— because despite the murderous glint to my silver eyes and the trail of bodies I'm leaving in my wake, they don't want to hurt me.

A fatal mistake.

I struggle wildly, like a caged animal that will throw itself at the bars until it's broken and bleeding just to get free. And when that doesn't work, I drop. Lachlan's forced over me and I use his momentum and imbalance to send him flying and crashing to the ground.

"Graceful," Beau quips, helping him up.

"Fuck off," he bites back, dusting himself off. Together with Morgan, they form a wall between me and Elsie.

I roll my shoulders and sigh. This will take a while, but I'll get through them; brick by brick.

Their attention, as one, darts somewhere behind me. Before I can turn, there's a blur and a cloud of musk and cinnamon rushes over my senses as someone throws themselves at me. Rowan.

But he doesn't get me in a chokehold, or press me against the ground. He holds me to him with fierce attention, keeping my hands pressed between us.

"Go!" he commands as I fight to break out of his embrace. "Get Elsie inside with the others now."

But Elsie has other plans. She shifts in a blur; clothes tearing, fur bristling, a thunderous snarl in her throat. She hits the ground running and charges into Rowan and me, sending us sprawling. I land hard on my back, my head thudding against the ground and sending my vision swimming but, before I can move, the wolf leaps onto me.

And my world stops.

It bears down on me, snarling, golden eyes glaring. I hold it back but the thing just keeps coming, jaws snapping inches from my face, claws scraping against my chest. It's going to bite me— It's going to kill me—

And Rowan is suddenly right there, wrenching the wolf off me by its neck. It growls and barks and struggles to reach me — far from done — so Rowan finishes the fight. His movement is sharp and calculated, and I can barely hear the snap as blood surges through my ears, as unpleasant memories blur my rage, but I hear the snarls break off with all the suddenness of a gunshot.

I'm frozen, reeling as my mind flickers to the night of the trial, to the night a wolf pinned me and Esme saved my ass, to the night Orion shot her in the head. I just barely summon the focus to push myself up on shaking arms when Rowan tosses the limp wolf to the ground, crouches before me, and pulls me into his embrace once more.

Clarity flickers. I'm gasping hard, shivering violently.

All around us, the clearing has gone deathly silent. The sharp, acrid stench of blood rises in a choking fog.

"Get inside," he murmurs. "Check everyone's alright."

"We're not leaving you alone with him," Morgan argues tentatively.

"Trust me. Go."

I hear twigs snap as soft footsteps retreat back towards the house, but Rowan gently coaxes my face against his neck and I can't move to check where the others are. Instinct scrambles for a foothold. He envelops me in a world of peace and musk and cinnamon. I struggle weakly.

Don't you fucking dare.

"Shh, it's alright. You're alright. Come on, love. Fight it for me. You're safe. Come back to me," he whispers, the press of his lips like a feather at my ear. Every breath he lets out sends shivers skittering down my neck and spine.

His voice, his warmth, his presence— everything about him coaxes me out of the dark. Shadows seep from the edges of my vision and clarity comes rushing back. My body becomes my own again and the first thing I do is wrap my arms around him and hold him close.

"I'm sorry," I manage. "Fuck."

He sags with relief. "It's alright— you did what you had to."

Morbidly curious, I find myself peeking out at the woodland. A massacre greets me. There's a display of contorted bodies littering the ground like some horrific art exhibit; splatters of crimson painting the clearing. Wolves and people alike.

So much for the alliance.

"Your pack—" I gasp. It's a blur in my head, and if I hurt some of his own to get to the alpha pair and the gamma...

Rowan pulls back to look around, assessing the damage. He still holds me close, and his eyes shimmer with golden flecks. "They're fine," he tells me. "Duskland, though... Well, I guess they had it coming."

I jolt out of his grip and glare at him. "That's not funny. I could've killed you. I could've... I could've killed everyone."

There's blood smeared across his face and — without conscious thought — I reach up to wipe it away, checking for an injury lurking beneath. He catches my hand in his and gently traces the swirled lichtenberg figures snaking down my wrist. They're dull now, like old scar tissue instead of a surge of light beneath my skin.

His touch sets my veins alight for an entirely different reason, and I hesitantly pull my hand from his grip and drop my gaze to the ground.

"River, this fight was a long time coming. The truce was temporary— I should've known they were planning something, walking in here so brazen. The second they got you on your knees, believe me, I saw it in every face— the entire pack was ready to rip that alliance to shreds to get you back. I... I'm so sorry. I should've never let you go."

I shake my head. "I thought I could help make the alliance work if I just... trusted. Like you."

"And Alessandro went and ruined it all. He tends to do that. Sorry— tended."

I sniff and stand up, offering him my hand. "Four down, none to go."

He smiles up at me; a little twitch of his lips. "You've officially held up your end of the bargain. I think it's about time we get rid of your demons, too," he says, taking my hand and letting me pull him up. Something in his expression cracks and regret leaks through. "I'm sorry. I never meant for them to take it so far. I almost lost you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You need to stop throwing yourself at me when I'm Hazing, or else I'll lose you."

"Duly noted. It worked, though, didn't it?" he asks, leading the way back towards the pack house.

I frown as I watch him go, considering. "It did," I allow, before shaking my head and catching up to him. It shouldn't, but it did.

By now, the sun has hidden itself behind the mountainous border of Crescent Valley, casting long shadows across the blood-stained ground. Trees tremble beneath a cool breeze stirring— or perhaps they're traumatised after their front-row seat to my murder show. The sky is swathed in a sea of umber and lilac and speckled with clouds; a stunning sight, if you keep your gaze locked upwards and fervently ignore the stench.

The pack house, as I wander inside after Rowan, is chaotic. There's people rushing about, tending to wounds and checking on everyone and trying to restore some semblance of peace. Rowan must've sent them inside to hide them in case I ran out of Duskland enemies and turned on his family, instead.

Shame eats away at me; cavernous and damning.

Beau, Lachlan and Morgan are at the heart of it, doing their duty to their pack and making sure everyone's alright.

But as the door clicks shut behind me, the chaos subsides and a heavy silence follows in its wake as every set of eyes lands on me. They look at me as though I'm a monster Rowan has just barely managed to chain up. Guilt has me by the throat, squeezing relentlessly.

Rowan's staring at me, too, but there's no fear in his eyes. Something else sparks to life behind his gaze; a dedication. "We know what it's like to struggle," he says, his voice soft yet weighted with reverence. "To have something forced upon us that we don't know what to make of, or how to deal with. I did not choose to lose my parents and inherit a title I didn't feel ready for."

Lachlan clears his throat and steps forwards. "I was cast out of my pack and had nowhere to go, no family to fall back on, until Rowan found me and showed me what true loyalty looked like."

Beau offers me a tentative smile and he says, "I was bitten by a lone wolf and left to go through the first shift alone." He gives Lachlan a little nudge and nods to Rowan and continues, "These two found me screaming and helped me through it. And when it was over, they brought me here and I've never looked back."

Morgan takes his hand, offers him a little smile, and tells me, "A rivalry took my pack away from me. I had no one left, and then this annoying little shit sniffed me out and told me he had a place I could stay."

"And it's been rainbows and sunshine ever since, thank you very much," the beta retorts, making her smile stretch into a grin as she rolls her eyes. Her nose is bloodied— shame bites a little harder.

"You didn't choose to lose your sister," Rowan says, drawing my focus. "You didn't choose for your family to follow you here and force that Haze onto you. You can choose how you deal with it. You can run, or you can find a way to live with it. Our pack takes in those who are struggling— we do not condemn them, and we will not condemn you, either. I'll keep saying it until you believe it— you're part of this pack. You're part of this family, and we protect our own."

A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it back as my eyes sting against the threat of tears. To avoid their pity and their misplaced dedication, my focus drifts to one of the windows overlooking the clearing and the woods beyond. The bloody mess I've made.

"I can't protect you," I argue. "Not from myself."