Chapter 0443
They're coming.
The hunters make no effort to conceal their approach. Each passing day tightens the knot of dread in my chest. The thought of losing Isolde terrifies me. She believes she's our key to victory, but I can't—I won't—let her fall.
When the mind link crackles to life with news of the hunters' proximity, we're already moving. Weeks of preparation have led to this moment. I'd never admit it to Isolde, but I'm relieved she isn't pregnant yet. The weight of protecting my pack and mate is crushing enough—adding an unborn child to that burden would shatter my focus. My fear for her has turned me into a hovering shadow, demanding constant updates on her whereabouts. It annoys her, but I can't help it.
The hunters have split their forces near our three borders, forcing us into an hour-long sprint to intercept them. Our patrols caught their scent thanks to the Sylvan Fae's warning. We maintain radio silence, letting the hunters believe they've caught us unaware. This deception buys time for our warriors to assemble while keeping our scouts safe.
"Isolde, I'm moving out with the warriors. Initiate evacuation protocols, then join us. Stay safe. I love you." I send the message through the mind link before shifting and rallying our fighters.
"Right behind you," she responds.
By the time my pack arrives, Adrian's warriors are already in position, and Sebastian's forces flank us moments later. Seraphina and Evelyn shift back, their eyes scanning the treeline. "Where's Isolde?" they demand through the link.
"On her way," I reply, though unease prickles at me. Aurora is swift—she should have caught up by now.
A thunderous rustling erupts from the forest. Five heads snap toward the sound. I inhale sharply, attempting to gauge numbers the way Isolde does. She's better at it, but even I can't miss the overwhelming stench of thousands.
"Isolde?"
Her voice floods the shared link, breathless. "Almost there. Five thousand and two hunters. We're outnumbered five to one."
She's right. Between recent pup booms and injured warriors, we barely field a thousand fighters. Five-to-one odds are brutal. Seasoned warriors might manage, but the younger ones won't last. Unless we thin their ranks fast, this battle turns dire.
"We can't engage head-on," Sebastian growls. "Flank them."
"My pack holds the center," Adrian decides. "You two take the sides. Hit them hard before they regroup."
"We'll wait for Isolde," Evelyn and Seraphina insist.
"Our front line needs the most protection anyway," Evelyn adds.
Orders ripple through the ranks. My pack ghosts left, closing the noose around the hunters. Hearing "five thousand" is one thing; seeing that sea of enemies is another. For a heartbeat, the scale of it staggers me. Then fury burns the fear away. These monsters came to slaughter my pack. To murder my mate. For that, they'll die.
We complete the encirclement, linking with Sebastian's forces on the opposite side. The trap is set.
Theron's howl splits the air—our signal to strike.
Hundreds fall before the hunters comprehend their predicament. Then chaos erupts as they shift, fangs bared, turning on us with vicious precision.