The pack struck the moment the Wraith committed.
Derek hit it from the left in a blur of dark fur and gold eyes, the full Change upon him between one stride and the next.
The black wolf was massive, larger than any natural animal, and the force of his impact drove the creature sideways with a sound of tearing shadow.
Mara and Thorn came from the right.
Sable and Elias closed from the western trees.
Cal and Rian cut off the northern retreat.
The clearing erupted into violence.
Allison held her ground as ordered, knife ready, heart slamming against her ribs.
The Wraith moved like smoke and bone, shifting shape mid-combat sometimes wolf, sometimes the broken memory of a hiker, sometimes something with too many limbs.
Silver blades flashed where the pack could land them.
Black, oily fluid sprayed across the moonlit grass.
The air filled with snarls, the wet impact of bodies, and a high, layered scream that belonged to no living throat.
Derek’s wolf form locked onto the creature’s shoulder and tore.
The Wraith lashed out with a limb that ended in a cluster of claws and caught him across the ribs, sending him skidding.
Allison’s breath stopped.
He was on his feet again in an instant, gold eyes burning, but the hit had been solid.
The creature turned toward her again, sensing the opening.
Allison did not wait for the signal.
The blade sank deep.
The Wraith’s scream climbed into a register that made her ears ring.
Black fluid poured over her hand, ice-cold and burning at the same time.
The creature staggered, shape flickering wildly, and the pack closed the circle.
Derek, still in wolf form, seized the moment.
He and Mara together forced the Wraith down.
Elias drove a longer silver blade through what passed for its chest.
The thing convulsed once, twice, then collapsed inward like ash given just enough time to remember it had once been solid.
The black residue steamed in the moonlight and began to dissolve.
Silence crashed over the clearing, broken only by harsh breathing and the slow drip of fluid from silver edges.
Derek shifted back first.
He stood naked and bloody in the grass, a deep set of claw marks raked across his ribs, chest heaving.
His eyes found Allison immediately.
He crossed the distance in three strides and pulled her against him hard enough that the knife was trapped between their bodies.
“You’re alive,” he growled into her hair. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“So are you.”
He pulled back just far enough to look at her, hands framing her face, checking for injuries.
When he found none, the rigid line of his shoulders finally eased.
Around them the rest of the pack was shifting back, cataloguing wounds, watching the last of the residue fade into the soil.
Mara approached, a shallow cut along her collarbone already clotting.
She looked at Allison, then at the silver knife still in her hand, and gave a single, sharp nod.
“It felt the silver,” Mara said.
“That bought the opening.
You held.”
Allison managed a breath that was almost a laugh.
“I was told not to improvise.”
Derek’s mouth curved, tired and real.
“We’ll discuss the improvisation later.”
He kept one arm around her as the pack began the work of making sure nothing of the Wraith remained.
The moon watched overhead, full and bright, and for the first time since Allison had arrived in Blackpine Ridge, the woods felt quiet in a way that was not waiting.
The hunt was over.
What came next would be decided in daylight.