KAEL'S POV
The ravine had become a maelstrom of claws and fire.
Thralls poured from the tree line in waves, their hollow eyes fixed on Ayla like she was the only light left in the pack. My black wolf moved in a blur, every strike a kill, every heartbeat thrumming with the bond—hot, wild, alive.
"With me," I sent through the tether, molten steel in my mental voice. "No space between us."
"Always," Ayla answered, silver fire erupting from her arms in a burning arc that seared through a cluster of thralls. "Their screams cut through the night as they crumbled to ash, the stench of rot and burned fur choking the air."
I spun, claws slicing through another shadowed wolf that lunged for her from the side. Its ichor hissed against the snow, freezing and burning at once.
Every movement was instinct and rhythm. My wolf lunged, hers burned; my claws tore, her fire consumed. The bond sang with the raw pulse of our wolves moving as one, silver heat threading through black fur.
