31 - Para Bellum

The woods are alive with sorrowful howls and barks— a mournful melody that raises the hairs on my arms and sends unease skittering along my nerves. And yet, my pace remains set and my hand steady as I hold a silver throwing blade against my fated's neck. His skin sizzles angrily beneath its harsh bite. I'm dressed in the dark uniform of my family once more, having retrieved it from the car I stole, and my weapons lie ready and willing in the belts strapped across my waist and torso, whispering my name, beckoning me to use them. It hasn't been that long since I wore the whole hunter ensemble, and yet the uniform doesn't seem to fit quite right anymore.

"River," Rowan manages, his voice trembling and tugging at my wavering willpower. "Please, you don't have to do this. There's another way. There has to be another—"

I hiss for him to be quiet, pressing the knife more firmly against his throat. Obediently, he falls quiet. I direct him forwards. Despite being at my mercy, and despite his hands wrenched behind his back with a rope that digs into his skin, his head is held high and his shoulders are set. An alpha werewolf to the very end, facing any threat with a strong front. I'm leading him towards certain death, and yet he does not cower.

"There is no other way," I tell him coldly before whistling for my family's attention. They're close, I know it. I can feel it on the air, the promise of death and destruction.

They've had their sights set on Rowan's territory from the beginning, and I suspect they've been inching closer. Waiting to see if I will deliver or if they have to storm in and take out the threat I couldn't.

I wonder when the chaos back at the pack house will resemble some form of order, and when the wolves will descend with fury in their golden eyes. Soon, I expect. Very soon. I've taken their alpha from right under their noses.

And besides, it will not take long for Beau, Morgan and Lachlan to round everyone up and tell them the plan.

Beneath the sorrowful howls, I catch a whistle in the breeze. A short, lilting melody I recognise at once. It rises and falls, bouncing off the trees and allowing me to find its origin— like my own, it is a Ferreus call. One meant for when we get separated. One that means, 'over here'.

I send one back— a short note equating to, 'I hear you'. It's ingrained so deep in my instincts that I do it without thinking and alter my course to head in the direction of their call. My family are here and I will not keep them waiting.

More than anything, I want to lessen my hold on Rowan and promise him that this will work out— but I know, for his own sake, I cannot.

The whistle came from just up ahead, but there's three of them, if they haven't already called on reinforcements. More could be lurking around any trunk, behind any fern, watching me approach. If I let them see hesitation, if I so much as relax my fist a fraction, or loosen the rope around his wrists, or whisper assurances, they will know something is wrong. They will know I'm planning something.

If I pretend I'm one of them for long enough, they'll let their guard down. I can work with that.

I told Rowan to trust me, and he gave me his wrists and allowed me to make him vulnerable— I won't let him down.

The rain has passed and we emerge onto a clearing with tree canopies stretching and grasping for one another beneath a cerulean sky dotted with clouds. There's figures concealed amongst the trees and bushes, studying us as we approach with curiosity.

I study them with equal intensity, sizing them up. Reinforcements, by the look of it. Hunters with crossbows and guns and twitching fingers and well-masked terror sparking behind their gazes. They shrink back a little as we advance, and I note with some twinge of satisfaction that they seem perhaps a little too on the nervous side. Good.

One catches my attention. I know his face. The officer from the alley— the one who challenged Lachlan on the morning of Rowan's fated revelation, on the morning we found another victim of Duskland's rivalry. Lance. He sees us and blanches, but he does not drop his weapon.

Rowan gives a little struggle. "What the hell are you doing out here?" he demands, making more of them shuffle nervously. Hmm. He knows them. I'd ask, but that would ruin the image we've worked so hard to uphold.

As I haul him back under control with another hiss for silence, and perhaps dialling up the drama to appear a little more serious with my intentions, Lance averts his gaze in something close to shame. Pulling Rowan to a stop, I survey the mass of emerald foliage. Good cover. He pulls at his restraints, matching my dramatics with some of his own.

The unexpected presence of reinforcements, nervous though they may be, is an attempt to even the playing field, I realise as I catch sight of Orion, Liliana and my mother wandering into view, derision sharpening their features. They study their associates with the same level of empty, cold assessment as I have and, clearly, they do not seem impressed.

Whilst Liliana aims a crossbow towards us, and my mother clutches a handgun, Orion is unarmed as he studies me and the prize I've brought him.

His lips twitch with a smile. "You've caused a bit of an uproar, I see," he muses, his gaze sliding past me to the woods beyond, where the howls of distressed wolves searching for their alpha send shivers down the spines of trees and, judging from the way they shuffle, the nervous hunters, too. "They'll be upon us soon, no doubt."

"I want you to see me kill him," I say, keeping my focus locked on Rowan in case he tries anything. "Then we can fight his pack together."

"Welcome back, River," Orion tells me. I can hear the proud smile, the smug victory of thinking I've come back for his approval. "Esme would be proud."

His words are shurikens landing true— stinging and harsh. I smother a wince.

For both our sakes, I hope Rowan can play along, too.

He bites back a gasp as I push him to his knees on the sodden ground. My blade does not leave his throat and I lace the fingers of my free hand through his hair, tilting his head back until he can peer at me through his lashes.

"River, please," he whispers, his eyes shimmering golden.

"Quiet." My features twist with a scowl, but I hope he can read my intentions in every emotion I leave off my face. Trust me.

"They'll kill you. They'll kill you all, I vow it," he manages, his words gathering strength as he glares up at me, attempting to break past the rope. His efforts are futile and, even if he shifts, the awkward position will likely break his wolf's front legs.

Orion is grinning, looking pleased beyond any doubt as he stares at us like I've brought him a miracle. An alpha werewolf on his knees at the mercy of a Ferreus hunter. All is right in his world. The novice hunters around us close in and, instinctively, I count them. Twelve. Fresh-faced and looking as wary of us as they are of the morbid howls still cutting through the woods.

"Perhaps we should make him watch as we tear his pack to pieces," Liliana muses, her lips quirking.

At her side, her attention and gun both aimed at the woods, my mother makes a noise of assent. "Now that would be fun, wouldn't it?"

A thunderous snarl rushes from Rowan's throat and he struggles, but a sharp jab of my knee in his back and the bite of my blade has him grudgingly settling.

"Be still," I order before turning my focus to my uncle. I need to stall him. "You've found allies."

He lifts his shoulder into a halfhearted shrug. "These are the officers who've had enough taking bribes from vermin. They want this place wiped clean and offered us their aid. They'll do nicely enough for what comes next, I suppose." Even as Orion praises them, he scrutinises them with an expression I know well— one that settles on his features with ease. Vague disappointment.

Officers. I should've known. Rowan told me the police were losing patience with him and his pack. I never thought they'd be willing to pick up the crossbows and silver. Then again, I'd been so preoccupied with Duskland and then my family, there wasn't any concern left over for yet another obstacle to my freedom.

"Don't trust them. They're going to kill you, too," Rowan tells the officers, a harsh bite to his tone.

My mother laughs, turning her focus on the alpha. "They have made their choice. I'm afraid you cannot buy loyalty, mutt."

"You don't know the meaning of the word."

"I said, be quiet," I demand.

Orion's steely gaze is back on me. "From the sounds of it, you're doing quite well on your own. Word on the street is an entire pack has fallen, and now you can finish it all. Come, now. Let's not waste any more time," Orion says, though he stays exactly where he is and crosses his arms bulging with muscle. "An alpha who lives — trapped or not — gives them hope. Let's have some fun before they find us, shall we? Show them what they're dealing with."

I stare in dawning horror as the Haze takes him— turning his eyes to molten silver and igniting the markings on his exposed arms and neck. His form ripples with power and a quick glance at my mother and Liliana shows them in similar states; weapons nocked and aimed at Rowan, gazes hard and focus unwavering. Empty silver eyes trained on the enemy. Shit. Not part of the plan.

They've had decades to master the art of controlling their Haze instead of letting it control them. I don't have that kind of time. The Haze is another weapon in their arsenal— to me, it is a blade burrowing deep in my chest. Twisting and slicing deeper and deeper. I take deep breaths and build up a wall, trying fervently to keep from falling. I need to stay aware, or else this plan will fall apart. Rowan's trusting me with his life. I will not fall.

Around us, the officers shift their weight and turn their focus inwards. They glance at one another warily, as though only just now realising the kind of danger they are in. By trying to get rid of one monster, they've aligned themselves with another.

"What the fuck—?" one of them manages, backing up half a step.

Orion directs his cool, empty stare on him. "You're either with us, or against us. Don't be foolish. You wanted the mess cleaned up."

"River," my mother says, her voice crooning, her stare razor-edged. "Join us, sweetheart. It's in your blood. Kill him, or we will."

My wall wavers and starts to crumble. The force of their Haze hits me like a choking wave, tearing my hard-won control to shreds.

I scramble for clarity, for anything I can cling onto to keep from falling. Nothing works.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"No," Rowan manages, his form going tense against mine as he sees them fall, as he senses my own struggle, as he realises our plan is falling apart at the seams. He fights against the rope to no avail. "No, River, please. Please stay with me. Don't do this—"

I'm falling before I can stop myself. They haven't so much coaxed my Haze as they have ripped it to the surface.

My eyes sear, my veins are full of gasoline and Orion's expectant stare is a struck match setting my whole form alight. I descend obediently, and the thread of my will snaps as the Haze falls over me a smothering, choking fog. I press the knife hard against Rowan's neck and he shrinks into me.

No. No, please. Not him. Please not him.

Orion's eyes gleam with silver and victory, a cracked mirror, as he watches me. "That's it," he praises, stepping forwards. "Give in to your nature and kill him. Join your family."

"River, please—!" Rowan chokes out. He's not fighting. He kneels there in the dirt at my mercy. The howls are distant, but they grate on every last razor-edged nerve.

My fist trembles as my mind splits in two. Orion, Liliana and my mother all stare expectantly, eyes on fire, fingers itching for triggers or handles.

A glimmer of rage, of bone-deep understanding. I think of Esme, all those nights ago, rushing to my aid when a wolf pinned me. I think of Rowan doing the same when Elsie shifted and tried to tear me apart. I think of Orion's bullet chewing into my sister's head. I think of Liliana's crossbow trained on Rowan.

Don't fight it. Trust it. Let it guide you.

To a hunter lost to their Haze, there is nothing but threats and family.

Something deep within me aligns; fractures of light forming a whole galaxy. With the rush of a cool tsunami, the fires are doused and my mind snaps into clarity. I come alive.

"You are not my family," I say, and I send the blade slicing.

It rips through the air like a bullet and nestles exactly where I intended— right to the hilt in Liliana's exposed neck.