Page 120 of His Mark

This was rabid, disorganized, pure fucking mayhem.

They had no leader now and without one, they were nothing but hunger. I didn’t wait to see how long it would take before they came after us instead.

“Move!” I snarled, my body aching with every breath.

Rowan was already ahead of me, his giant black wolf barreling up the tunnel toward the entrance.

Lia was beside me, her wolf form smaller, but just as fierce, her breath coming in quick bursts as she kept pace with the rest of us. Varek was at the rear, his fur matted with blood, dragging one of the Nyktos corpses in his jaws.

We ran literally for our lives.

My paws pounded against the dirt, the stench of decay and death thick in my nose, my muscles screaming as I forced myself to keep moving.

The entrance was close. I could smell the fresh air, the scent of the forest beyond the cave. Behind us, though, the shrill sound of Nyktos tearing into each other still echoed, a chorus of chittering and clicking and dying things.

Good. Let them consume themselves.

We exploded from the entrance like ghosts escaping the grave, the cold night air slamming into us, sharp and biting against our bloodstained fur.

We didn’t stop running. Not until the smell of the cave was gone. Not until those ungodly sounds had faded. Not until my instincts told me we were far enough away that nothing was following us.

We ran until my body felt numb, until the only thing keeping me upright was pure fucking rage and adrenaline.

Then, finally, we stopped.

The forest was silent around us.

We had traveled far, miles away from the cave, pausing for just a minute to grab our packs from our old camp by the ridge and pushing until none of us could move anymore. The clearing we found was nestled deep between the trees, the thick brush providing cover, the air fresh and unspoiled by the scent of death.

I shifted first, my body protesting as I forced myself upright on two legs again. The pain hit immediately. I had deep cuts across my ribs, bruises formed along my arms, and my muscles screamed from the relentless strain.

Rowan was next, the shift almost violent as his huge wolf melted into his human form, his face hardened by his own pain as he wiped a streak of blood from his mouth.

Varek leaned against a tree and let the body of the Nyktos fall to the ground beside him, exhaling sharply as he forced himself to shift. His body was a mess of wounds, deep slashes across his arms and torso, but he didn’t complain.

Then there was Lia.

She was slower to shift, her breathing ragged and shallow, her body visibly trembling from exhaustion. Blood matted her hair at the temple, where I knew she’d hit the rocks during the fight, and her skin was more than just streaked with dirt—there were deep, claw-torn gashes along her shoulder and thigh, one of them still sluggishly bleeding. Dark bruises were already blossoming across her ribs, and the way she held herself—tight, careful—told me more than she would probably admit.

Broken ribs, several probably. Still, she had run. Fought. Shifted for the first time and kept up with wolves twice her size, faster, stronger, more experienced.

My chest ached.

She stood there, not asking for anything, not leaning on anyone, just… enduring. When her green eyes met mine, I saw it—the stubborn fire, yes, but something else too: quiet, courageous determination. She was that little girl, standing alone and unafraid amidst the ruins of her war-torn city all over again.

She hadn’t just survived. She had saved us.

And she looked like she was ready to do it again if I asked.

I stepped toward her without thinking, reaching out to steady her before her knees could give way. She didn’t resist, didn’t protest, just leaned into my side, letting herself rest against me for a breath, maybe two.

“Lia,” I said quietly, and my voice cracked with emotion.

I swallowed my heart, my throat tight as I looked at her.

We had gone in with seven; there were only four of us left.

Lia exhaled slowly, her voice soft. “We should set up camp.”

---