Our gazes meet, and my heart clenches as I see both the terror and the strength in her.
She shouldn’t have to do this. She doesn’t have enough training, either as a witch or a wolf, to face this kind of threat.
But she’s doing it anyway.
Her movements are jerky and uncoordinated, her attack nowhere near as smoothly controlled as Gwen’s was when we fought against her. In fact, I’m not sure Sable is using sigils at all. Still, black smoke is pouring out of her, and she guides it as much as she can, hurling it outward with broad movements of her hands.
I don’t know how long she can last. How long any of us can last. I need to find the source of all of this—Cleo—and fucking end her.
I make a move to turn away, but I’m stopped short by a blast of power as it streaks by my snout. It’s not meant for me, or it would’ve taken me down before I had a chance to breathe.
No, it barrels right past me, on a collision course for my girl.
The world seems to stop, time slowing down so each millisecond lasts an eternity.
Sable is caught in a battle with another witch, magic swirling and crackling between them. Her dueling partner is strong, and it’s taking all of Sable’s concentration. She doesn’t see the new threat coming toward her.
I can’t scream her name, so I howl—louder than I’ve ever howled before, with more anguish and desperation in the sound than I ever thought possible.
Sable’s head whips around, her blue eyes wide. She’s got a barrier up against the other witch as magic barrages her. She can’t do anything.
I race for her.
I’ll take the fucking blow.
I’d die for her any day.
But I’m not close enough. I won’t reach her in time.
The black magic bears down on her like a fucking freight train, but before it can reach her, another wolf leaps forward, absorbing the blow only inches before it strikes Sable’s back.
I skid to a stop, my heart so loud I hear it in my ears, feeling my pulse pounding in my front paws.
Magic shimmers over the large wolf as he lies still on the grass, his human form emerging.
It’s Malcolm.
25
Sable
The sound of something landing heavily on the ground behind me draws my attention away from the fight I’m locked in. I shove another blast of magic at the witch who’s attacking me, making her stumble back as I glance over my shoulder.
My heart lodges in my throat, making it impossible to breathe through the shock and grief.
“No!”
Fuck. No.
Malcolm isn’t even supposed to be here. All three packs voted for him to remain hidden and safe, protected in his own house while we faced the witches.
But like every shifter I love, the old alpha is stubborn. He obviously couldn’t sit the battle out.
Black smoke crackles over his body as the wolf on the ground turns back to Malcolm’s human form. His pale, wan face is slack, and magic has twisted tendrils of smoke around his too-thin body.
He’s hurt. Maybe even dead.
And it’s my fault.