Kael Stormfang's POV
I'm going to kill him.
Zephyr Nightscale holds my female in his arms, and every instinct I have screams at me to rip his throat out. My wolves are already attacking—Gray lunges for Zephyr's legs, Rook goes for his arm. But the snake moves like water, twisting away from every strike while keeping her unconscious body cradled against his chest.
"Don't make me hurt them," Zephyr warns, his voice cold. "I don't want to fight you, Kael."
"Then put her down!" I roar, charging at him.
He's fast. So fast. He dodges my claws by a hair and leaps backward, landing in a crouch twenty feet away. His snake eyes never leave mine, and I see the black veins pulsing faster across his face. He's close to going fully Feral. Desperate. Dangerous.
"I need her more than you do," Zephyr says. "Eight years, Kael. I've been fighting this curse for eight years. You had five years of pain? Try almost a decade of wanting to die every single day."
"She's not yours to take!"
"She's not yours to keep!" His voice cracks with emotion. "That light—her power—do you know what it felt like from half a mile away? Like every good thing I'd forgotten existed. Like hope. I won't lose that. I can't."
More snake warriors emerge from the trees behind him. Twenty at least, maybe more. They form a protective wall between Zephyr and my wolves. This was planned. He brought an army.
For her.
My female—the Blessed One—hangs limp in his arms. Whatever he injected her with knocked her out cold. I can see her chest rising and falling with breath, but she's completely helpless. Vulnerable.
And I let it happen.
Rage burns through me so hot I barely recognize my own voice: "If you hurt her, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. I will make you beg for the mercy of going Feral."
"I won't hurt her," Zephyr says, and he sounds sincere. "I just need her to heal me. Then I'll bring her back. You have my word."
"Your word means nothing, snake."
His jaw tightens. "Then I guess we're doing this the hard way."
He turns and runs.
My wolves and I chase, but the snake warriors block our path. Gray takes a blade to the shoulder. Rook gets knocked aside by a massive python-shifter. I barrel through two of them, my claws tearing into flesh, but there are too many. By the time I break through their line, Zephyr is gone.
Vanished into the Eastern Territories with my female.
I throw my head back and howl—a sound of pure fury and loss that echoes through the forest. My wolves join me, their voices mixing with mine in a promise: we will find her. We will bring her home.
"Alpha." Elder Mako appears from the trees, limping heavily. He's ancient, his fur more gray than black, but his eyes are sharp. "The prophecy is true. After a thousand years, she's finally here."
"I don't care about prophecies," I snarl. "I care about getting her back."
"You must understand what she is," Mako insists. "The Blessed One isn't just a healer. She's the bridge between worlds, the answer to the curse, the salvation of our people. Every tribe will want her. The snakes took her first, but the dragons will come. The bears. The panthers. Everyone."
The weight of his words sinks into my chest like stones.
She healed me with a single touch. Cured five years of curse corruption in seconds. If she can do that for everyone suffering from the Feral Curse...
"Wars will be fought over her," Mako says quietly. "Males will die by the thousands for the chance to claim her. And she's alone, confused, trapped in a world she doesn't understand."
Guilt twists my gut. I should have held her tighter. Should have gotten her to safety before anyone else sensed her power. Should have protected her better.
I failed.
Just like I failed my first mate.
"No." I shake my head hard, forcing the dark thoughts away. "She's alive. That means I can still save her."
"The Eastern Territories are vast," Gray says, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder. "Zephyr could hide her anywhere. The snake lands are full of caves and tunnels. We could search for months—"
"Then we search for months!" I snap. "I don't care how long it takes. She's mine. I claimed her. I will get her back."
Rook steps forward, his expression grim. "Alpha, we need to be smart about this. If we charge into snake territory with just our pack, we'll be slaughtered. We need allies. We need—"
"I need HER!" The words tear out of me with more emotion than I've shown in years. "Don't you understand? When she touched me, the pain stopped. Not just the curse pain—all of it. Every empty, broken piece inside me since Sara died... she made it quiet. She made it better."
My wolves stare at me in shock. I never talk about Sara. Never speak her name. But this is different.
This female—this strange, brave, impossible female who fell from the sky—she's different.
"I think..." I swallow hard, hardly believing what I'm about to say. "I think she might be my true mate."
The words hang in the air like lightning.
True mates are rare. Most beastmen never find theirs. I thought Sara was mine, but our bond never felt like this—this instant, consuming knowing that this female belongs with me.
"Then we'll get her back," Mako says firmly. "Whatever it takes."
A howl rises from the south—not wolf, but bear. Deep and thunderous. Then another from the west. Dragon. The roar shakes the ground.
They all felt her power. They're all coming.
"We need to move," Gray says urgently. "If the other tribes are converging on the Eastern Territories—"
"They'll fight the snakes for her," I realize with horror. "There's going to be a bloodbath."
And she'll be right in the middle of it.
I start running before I finish the thought, my wolves racing behind me. The Eastern Territories are a half-day's journey at full speed. Every second I waste is another second she's in danger.
Hold on, I think desperately. Just hold on. I'm coming.
We've been running for hours when Gray suddenly stops, his nose in the air. "Alpha. You need to smell this."
I skid to a halt and catch the scent he's found.
Blood. Her blood.
My vision goes red. "Where?"
"South. Fresh trail. But Alpha..." Gray's face is pale. "There's another scent with it. Dragon fire. And fighting. A lot of fighting."
I take off running again, faster now, my heart pounding in my ears.
We burst into a clearing, and I freeze.
Bodies. Dozens of snake warriors, dead or dying. Scorch marks cover the trees. The ground is torn up from a massive battle.
And in the center of the carnage, standing over an unconscious Zephyr with his clawed foot on the snake's throat, is Draven Ashenwing.
The exiled Dragon Lord.
He's holding my female in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. She's awake now, her eyes wide and terrified.
When Draven sees me, he smiles—sharp and cold.
"Hello, wolf," he says casually. "I believe you've lost something. Or should I say someone?" His arms tighten around her possessively. "Don't worry. I'll take excellent care of the Blessed One. After all, the prophecy says she belongs to me."
My female's frightened eyes meet mine across the clearing.
And I realize with sinking dread: this is going to be so much worse than I thought.