CHAPTER 58: BOUNTY ON HER HEAD

Goddess, no.

My stomach dropped as the realization settled in like ice. This wasn’t a chance meeting. Wolves didn’t gather like this by accident.

"This couldn’t mean danger... right?" I whispered in my head, though the words were weak even to myself.

Leika’s answer was swift, edged with disdain. "Who are you fooling? Those wolves don’t look friendly at all, Vien."

She was right. Their eyes gleamed like sharpened knives in the gray light, fur bristling, muscles taut with the anticipation of blood.

"Are we getting ambushed?"

"Probably."

A thought clawed its way through the fear. "Then I can take advantage of it," I whispered back. "If they fight each other, I can use the chaos to run."

Leika’s growl reverberated in the pit of my mind, sharp and warning. "But you can’t shift."

"Then I run on two legs," I hissed stubbornly. My voice trembled, but the resolve in me didn’t.

Leika turned silent, as if she couldn’t indulge me on my plans.

I forced myself to face the wolves in the clearing, forcing every sense I had to sharpen.

If I couldn’t shift, then I would try my best to survive with my instincts, even if it was only for one more breath.

The pack ahead of us stilled, and I felt the ripple of their minds brushing against each other, wolves communicating in the silent way.

Though I hadn’t shifted, I could still hear them.

"What are you doing blocking my way, Decron?" Arjan’s growl rolled through the snow, his tone edged with irritation.

The male wolf at the center was a huge beast, though not as huge as Rion’s wolf, with mottled gray fur bristling.

He stepped forward, his golden eyes fixed on Arjan, then flicked to me.

"I heard Alpha Finn is willing to pay handsomely to anyone who can bring that woman back."

His muzzle jerked toward me.

My blood froze.

It wasn’t just Arjan. Not just Arthien. Finn had set a bounty on me.

My chest tightened in anger. With the kind of prize Finn was offering, I doubted there was a wolf alive who wouldn’t set their eyes on me now. Especially the ones who were either in need or loved a challenge.

Leika’s snarl ripped through me, vibrating with rage. "He’s thrown you to the hounds. He’s insane."

The thought of more wolves running after me made bile rise in my throat.

"And you think you and your little pack are enough to win against me and my men?" Arjan’s laughter cut through the clearing, low and sardonic.

Decron’s ears twitched back, but he didn’t flinch. He growled, "A man can dream, Arjan."

And then—

The fight erupted with no warning, no signal.

Wolves lunged, claws flashing, fangs snapping. The sound was chaos, growls tearing through the air, bones cracking under the weight of impact, snarls so loud they seemed to shake the sky.

Snow burst upward as bodies collided, the white ground torn crimson in patches. The cold wind whipped through, carrying the metallic tang of blood before the first body had even hit the ground.

And then snow began to fall.

Gentle, delicate flakes that seemed almost mocking against the brutality below. They clung to my lashes, dusted my coat, but they couldn’t hide the violence. Even wrapped in the thick fur of my cloak, the chill cut straight through me.

Ives’s body stiffened beneath me.

His paws dug into the snow as he stepped back, as though he could shield me from the storm of violence. His ears flicked, his muscles quivering with restraint.

He wanted to fight. I could sense with the way his body tensed below me. Every fiber of him was screaming to throw himself into the battle. But instead, he stayed between me and death.

My throat burned. I wanted to tell him to run. To turn and carry me away while the others were distracted.

Because I could see it in the clash... Arthien might not win this fight. And if they fell, then what? I’d simply belong to Decron’s pack instead.

Who knew if it woud be harder for me to escape them?

But before I could speak, the air split open with a sound so haunting.

Ives howled.

It wasn’t a call to arms. It was grief, rage, anguish all tangled into one. His body lurched forward as he launched into the fray, claws digging deep into the snow.

Because of his sudden move, I fell from his back into the snowy ground.

My head snapped toward the sound that had triggered it. And then I saw.

An Arthien wolf fell, blood spraying across the snow, its head severed cleanly from its body. The ground drank it greedily, staining the white red.

The wolf had been someone Ives cared for. I could feel it in the way his howl cracked, in the way his fury burned.

He barreled into the killer, his rage so fierce it shook me to my core.

My breath came in ragged gasps. My chest heaved.

"Now’s your chance, Vien."

Leika’s voice was sharp, commanding. "Run. Now. While they’re blind to you."

I didn’t hesitate. My body moved on instinct. My boots dug into the snow, legs straining, lungs burning.

One step. Two. Three. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, louder than the howls.

Five meters. That was all I managed.

From the corner of my eye, I saw it—the blur of a massive wolf tearing free of the battle.

Deep brown fur, golden eyes blazing with bloodlust. His snarl ripped through the clearing, fiery as wildfire.

And he was coming straight for me.

The ground trembled beneath his charge. Each bound closed the space between us with terrifying speed.

I forced my legs faster, but I knew. I knew. He would be on me in seconds.

My chest burned. My lungs screamed. My body begged me to stop, but I pushed until my vision blurred. It was futile. His claws would rip me apart before I ever took another ten steps.

I braced myself for the impact. For pain. For death.

But it never came.

Before his claws could touch me, the world around me changed.

Blackness surged, swallowing me whole.

Shadows burst into being, wrapping me in a cocoon of night. They coiled upward like smoke made solid, darkness curving protectively around me.

The air chilled, heavy with power, thick with a scent I recognized instantly.

Rion’s shadows.

The wolf skidded to a halt, its fangs snapping furiously at the wall of black. But the shadows did not break. They rippled, restless, like living things tasting blood in the air.

Then one tendril coiled upward with terrifying precision, slipping around the wolf’s throat.

In an instant, it tightened.

There was a sharp, sickening crack—swift, merciless.

The wolf’s body crumpled into the snow, steam rising from its still-warm fur.

Its golden eyes stared blankly at the gray sky, wide open yet utterly lifeless.