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They came at me in a wave of steel and fang, but I held back the full force of what I could do because Knox was right about one thingāif wolves died here there would be panic and questions and attention we couldn't afford, not when Lycaon's prison was failing and we needed to operate in shadows.
What we did after the Age of Sundering had been for a reason. I had to be careful.
So instead of incinerating them I let my aura expand, just enough, just a fraction of the power that thrummed beneath my skin, and it hit them like a physical wall.
The omegas with their cleavers flew backward as if yanked by invisible strings, their weapons clattering from their hands as they slammed into walls and equipment with bone-jarring force but not enough to kill, just enough to make them stay down, and the shifted wolves yelped as the pressure of my presence crushed them mid-leap and sent them skidding across the floor to crash into metal shelving that toppled with a deafening clang.
