The howl had barely faded when the pack stirred. Wolves moved in whispers and glances, muscles tensed, ears alert. Isla's white eyes flared again, faintly glowing, tracking every sound, every vibration in the ground, every pulse in the chest of the pack members nearby. The bond throbbed violently, pulling at Dorian, tugging him into the storm of her awareness whether he wanted it or not.
Dorian froze in the corner of the training ground, jaw tight, fists clenched. Every heartbeat of Isla's was a hammer against his own chest, reminding him that he was not just a bystander. His cursed beta blood clawed at him, constraining the fire that wanted to rise, chaining him to restraint even as desire and instinct begged for release. He could feel her, feel the pull, feel the surge, and he hated how powerless it made him.
Isla's gaze swept over the pack. Minor Kyote wolves crouched low, ready to move, every hair on their bodies taut with anticipation. Her senses were sharp enough to feel fear, curiosity, and loyalty all tangled together. The distant howl had stirred something deeper than alertness, it had stirred raw hunger, protective instinct, and the echo of a threat that needed to be met head-on.
A low growl escaped her throat, barely audible, but enough to ripple through the pack. Dorian flinched, the surge of her power brushing against him again, this time sharper, insistent, unavoidable. The bond pulled him forward, made him feel what she felt: the anger, the readiness, the fire burning beneath her skin.
"Isla," Marcel's voice came from the edge of the clearing, smooth but sharp with caution. His eyes glimmered gold in the faint light, focused on her every movement. "Control it. We do not know how many are out there."
She tilted her head, nostrils flaring, ears flicking. "I feel them," she said, voice low, rumbling with power. "I can hear them, sense them, every step. They are close."
Dorian gritted his teeth. "And I feel you," he said, voice rough, catching in his throat. "Every heartbeat, every breath… dragging me into it. I… I cannot control it."
The words hung in the air. His frustration and helplessness burned through the bond like fire, and Isla felt it, sharp and raw. The tug of him against her power, the restraint he fought to maintain, made the energy spike in response. The pack shifted, unease rippling through them as the clearing trembled with the invisible pulse of their intertwined power.
"Then do not fight it," Isla said quietly. "Use it." Her claws scraped lightly against the dirt, tail flicking, posture low, ready. "We cannot wait."
The distant sounds grew closer, branches snapping in the undergrowth as shadows moved through the trees. The rival pack, or whatever they were, were testing the perimeter, probing, maybe even daring them to respond. Every instinct Isla had screamed to strike first, to overwhelm, to tear through before they could even breathe fully.
Dorian's body stiffened. He wanted to, could almost feel the power rising inside him, but the beta curse held him back, whispering caution, reminding him of restraint, of limits. He hated it, hated himself, hated that her bond could pull at him so effortlessly while his own blood refused to answer him fully. His claws flexed, twitching, wanting release.
"Stay close," Isla warned, not looking at him directly. Her gaze cut across the clearing, muscles coiled like a spring. "Do not hesitate. Whatever comes, we face it together."
The minor Kyote allies obeyed instantly, forming a perimeter, eyes wide, breaths shallow. Fear and awe wrapped tightly around them. Marcel stepped slightly closer, but not too close, watching, calculating, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of energy radiating from Isla.
Then the first shadow lunged from the trees. A wolf, faster than the eye could track, teeth bared, claws extended. Isla shifted instinctively, white fur catching the moonlight, claws flashing, fangs sinking with precision. The scent of blood, adrenaline, and ozone filled the air, tangling with the pulse of her bond. Dorian stumbled forward, caught halfway in hesitation, claws unsheathed but teeth unbiting, watching her move.
"You have to feel it," she growled, voice low, dangerous. "Let it pull you. Do not fight it."
He tried. He wanted to. But the beta blood snarled at him, limiting, constraining. And yet, the bond flared, dragging him halfway into her surge, forcing his body to move, his instincts to respond. His first strike hit uncertainly, teeth grazing the flank of the attacking wolf, claws raking shallowly. The predator stumbled back, confused by the force behind Dorian's half-measured power.
Isla's eyes followed his every motion. The pull of the bond, the fire in her chest, allowed her to adjust, strike, and anticipate not just the enemy, but him. She had never felt control like this, yet it was tethered to another's hesitation, another's struggle. It burned hotter than any anger, deeper than any survival instinct.
Another shadow lunged. Isla intercepted, raking claws and snapping teeth, forcing the predator back into the undergrowth. Dorian shifted alongside her, uncertain, fierce, restrained, and pulled by something he could neither stop nor fully claim.
Marcel moved, fluid, lethal, keeping the flanks secure. He did not intervene directly, but the air around him hummed with caution and power. He was measuring Isla, measuring Dorian, measuring the surge that had everyone on edge.
The clearing went quiet for a moment. Every wolf, minor or elder, stood still, watching the aftermath, listening to the distant rustle that warned the next wave was coming. The bond pulsed violently again, Dorian gasping slightly as the surge caught him off-guard. His beta blood pushed back, but the connection dragged him forward anyway.
"You are not just yourself," Marcel said softly, almost to no one. "You are all of you, and more."
Dorian looked at Isla, white eyes glowing faintly, chest heaving. He could see it, the apex fire, the control, the unshakable force that had pulled him across the clearing tonight. And for the first time, he realized how small his restraint felt against it, how much of him wanted to give in, to let the bond take over, to finally match her surge.
But fear, frustration, and the curse held him back and Isla. Isla only smiled, sharp, predatory, ready.
The next wave was coming and the bond would not allow hesitation.