The shadows protected Makaela as she and Dorian navigated through the forestry. She had donned her robes again, using the black cloth to camouflage in the darkness. Dorian was leading the way to the hunters' camp, his red eyes wide and alert as he tip-toed across the dirt floor.

Makaela found herself watching him the entire time.

His complexion reminded her of precious ebony sparkling underneath the moonlights glittering rays. Scars and tattoos decorated his sculpted back. Most of the markings were of wolves or the moon or words in an ancient language. A crimson brand—the symbol of the Redfang clan—stood out against his left shoulder blade.

Her gaze shifted downward. A blush crept across her dark cheeks upon realizing his prison jumpsuit was barely more than a loincloth. She wasn't complaining, but she was sure he didn't enjoy being half-naked in the forest.

Or did he? After all, he was a werewolf.

"You're going to need some new clothes," she told him.

He glanced down at himself and shrugged. "Huh. I guess you're right." He continued forward, his nose slightly lifted in the air.

"How far away from their camp are we?"

Dorian stopped at Makaela's question. His eyes narrowed as he sniffed the air. "There are a lot of different scents in the area so it's a little difficult to say." He took one more whiff of the air around them. "The Nightlings have a very potent scene, though. They're about a mile due south of here. I'm guessing that's where the camp is."

Makaela was awe of his keen sense of smell. In fact, she was in awe of him.

He was a beautiful creature with many talents. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. Despite being a member of the most dangerous werewolf clan to ever exist, he was kind and attentive toward her. And the way he looked at her with those scarlet irises filled her head with thoughts that could give a nun a heart attack.

"You know," he said, with his head facing forward, "I can feel you staring at me."

Her cheeks burning, she averted her gaze to her dirt-stained shoes. "No, I wasn't... Why would I be staring at you?" She scoffed at him and scowled. "Get over yourself."

"I was merely making an observation."

"Yeah, yeah."

Now he was starting to remind her of Sebastian. The boy could be so full of himself sometimes.

A scowl morphed into a frown at the thought of him. She quickly pushed him out of her head and continued following Dorian through the forest.

As they went, Makaela's mind lingered on the ambush carried about by the Children of Eden. How had they managed to get so close without Dorian or the Nightlings picking up their scents? And did they find them in the first place?

So many questions, yet no answers.

The face of the man who had cornered her and Dorian invaded her thoughts. Even though she hadn't seen Dorian kill him, she could see his mangled and bloodied body in her head. She shuddered as a chill slithered across her skin.

She glanced at the werewolf ahead of her. While she was happy that she hadn't seen him kill the hunter, she was glad that he did it. It was what they deserved. She wondered what it felt like to watch the life drain from their eyes as they pleaded for their lives underneath the might of a being much stronger than themselves.

When her Nightling was still alive and well within her, she could recall a vague sense of power and superiority whenever she lost control. But she almost never had any recollection of her actions afterward. 

Dorian had access to that power whenever he wanted. He was a killing machine who could transform in the blink of an eye.

She wished she had that power. Siren had taken it from her, leaving her weak and pathetic. Her mouth twisted into a snarl. In front of her, Dorian peered at her over his shoulder.

"Everything alright?"

"How did it feel?"

He tilted his head. "Excuse me—"

"How did it feel when you killed that hunter? You killed him right?"

He nodded.

She gestured for him to elaborate.

Exhaling, he ran a hand atop his short, black hair. "If you think I enjoy killing, you're wrong. I only kill when necessary."

She blinked, confused. A Redfang who didn't like killing people? It didn't quite make sense to her. His clan prided themselves on murdering and pillaging and destroying. He even went to prison for it. How could he not enjoy it?

Even though she couldn't tap into her inner Nightling at the moment, the dark thoughts that came with the demon still lingered in the back of her mind. She would do anything to get that power back. Anything.

She glanced at her own hands. While they were relatively clean, she could see the blood of those she had murdered staining the skin.

Dorian may have been born a monster, but he was more human than she was.

A shudder passed through her.

What have I become?

"Come on," Dorian grumbled. "Let's keep moving. We're almost there."

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said timidly, her eyes low. "I just thought..."

"It'd be best if we kept our voices down."

She opened her mouth to respond but decided against it. With her shoulders slouched, she nodded quietly and continued walking behind him.

The two of them arrived at the outer edges of the hunter's camp ten minutes later. The forest had given way to a large clearing filled with tents, metal containers, and a large, brick building in the center of it all. Kerosene lamps burned bright around the campsite like small flames.

From where Makaela and Dorian hid, they spotted a few more people dressed in hunting gear marching around with rifles, hatchets, and other weapons in their hands. Her mouth twitched at the sight of them.

"Do you see them?" she whispered to Dorian. He had much better eyesight than she did. If their friends were in the camp, he would surely see them before she could.

He sat on his haunches, his fingertips grazing the dirt beneath them. "No...not yet, at least. But they're here, that's for sure. I can smell them."

Nodding, she continued looking around the camp for any sign of them.

Rescuing them from the Children of Eden wasn't going to be easy. In fact, it might have been impossible—especially with just the two of them. There was security everywhere and the men and women were moving in organized patterns she hadn't quite figured out yet. While Makaela was a talented caster and Dorian was strong in his own right, they were hilariously outnumbered. If they took out one hunter, two more would take their place like a hydra.

"This is hopeless," she whined. "We're never going to get them back."

Dorian shook his head at her but kept his eyes forward. "Not with that attitude."

"Oh, hush." She slapped his arm. "Can't we call for backup or something? I'm sure you've got a few werewolf buddies in the area."

He straightened up and ran a hand over his scalp. "That's...not a bad idea actually." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know why I didn't think if that."

"I was kidding...."

"Your master has employed my clan for years," Dorian said. "If he's planning on taking over Vashara, then they might be in the area."

Makaela scowled. "Thorian is not my master."

"My apologies."

She rolled her eyes. "Would they even hear you from here?"

He smiled at her, flashing his slightly pointed canines. She hadn't noticed before, but they seemed to always be like that. Perhaps they were permanently sharpened; unlike her own fangs which had to be summoned.

"Regular wolf howls can carry up to six miles," he told her. "Werewolves can go even farther. If I reach out to them and they are nearby or near Vashara, they will hear me."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Dorian dipped his head and closed his eyes, prompting Makaela to ask if he was alright. He ignored her and threw his head and back. A booming howl that shouldn't have been possible erupted from his throat. The sound carried through the trees, rustling leaves and bouncing off their trunks in search of the ears of an ally.

Makaela directed her attention to the hunter camp ahead of them. The hunters heard it too. A few of them grabbed their weapons and headed out into the forest.

Luckily for Makaela and Dorian, those particular hunters left an area of their base unguarded. She grinned at her companion, who nodded at her in return. Keeping their heads low, the two of them emerged from the trees and made a break for the camp. 

Making sure to stay in the shadows, they flitted across the dry grass and only stopped once they were hidden by the dark green tarp of a tent. She heard people talking and laughing inside. The faint silhouettes of their sitting figures moved across the tent's flaps, highlighted by the lanterns within its walls.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing.

I could sneak in there and kill them right now...

Just as she was about to slip inside, Dorian tapped her shoulder. Scowling, she glared at him.

"This way." He pointed to the brick building a few paces away from them. Grumbling under her breath, she obliged and moved toward it.

They hopped from tent to tent, staying in the darkness and evading the view of the remaining hunters in the area. Eventually, they found themselves crouched behind one of the walls of the central building in the camp. One of the wooden, double doors were open, light from inside bathing the raised patio in muted, amber rays.

She turned to Dorian. "You think they're in there?"

"I know they're in there."

With her determined gaze on the door, she nodded. "Let's get our friends back."

#

Getting the others out of the room they had been in proved to be the easiest part of the rescue mission.

They were left unguarded and their restraints were no match for Dorian's teeth. The hunters had tied Emile and Amora's hands together with a strange, leather cuff that was obviously charmed to prevent them from casting. As for Sybil and Adair, they had been fitted with tight muzzles and metal clamps that encased their hands entirely.

Once Emile was free, he performed a simple unlocking spell on the iron cuffs. The twins ripped their muzzles off on their own.

As soon as they all stepped outside of the room to make their escape, they realized that the room hadn't been unguarded at all. In fact, the entire thing was a trap.

Gathered together in the hallway was a battalion of hunters with their weapons raised and their stares cold. They were all expressionless—unless intense counted as an expression. None of them moved except to adjust their weapons in their hands or the aims of their scopes.

Makaela and her group froze. If they moved as little as an inch, they all would have been eradicated on the spot.

As they all stood facing off in silence, the crowd parted. A man walked through them with a grin on his face. He stared at his prisoners as if he had caught a deer in the woods.

"Well, hello there," he said. "Was wondering when the rest of you were going to show up."

They were waiting for us?

Makaela's face burned with anger and embarrassment.

"What?" The man swept a hand through his black hair. "You didn't think we wouldn't notice one of our men got mauled, did you? Judging by his injuries, we suspected a werewolf was amongst you." He eyed Dorian with his blue eyes.

"Quite a strange group you've got going on here," he continued. "A band of freaks, you lot."

Amora's lip curled at him. "Watch your mouth before I cut it off." Makaela noticed she had summoned her vayrir—a black dagger.

The man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the noise grating Makaela's ears. "So violent."

"We're the violent ones? You're the ones who shot us in the neck with fucking darts," Amora shot back.

The man waved her words away as if they were an annoying mosquito. "You invaded our property. We had every right to engage."

"Unbelievable," Makaela muttered. She made sure to scan the weapons in their hands to see what exactly they were up against.

Some of them held standard Ordinaire hunting rifles. However, they all had a rune circle on them that glowed white with the Solair insignia in the center. She could feel the magic coming from them, pricking at her skin like tiny needles.

They were disgusting weapons. Unnatural. The hunters were unworthy to hold that power in their hands.

Those who didn't wield guns held normal swords, axes, and crossbows that also seemed to be enchanted.

"Now," the hunter drawled, tapping his chin as he paced from side to side in the hallway. "Would you mind telling me what you were doing in my territory."

Emile stepped forward, his hands still raised. "We were just passing by."

"Passing by, eh?" The man chuckled. "It's never just "passing by" with you people. You bring death and destruction with you everywhere you go. You're a plague upon this earth and it is our job to extinguish your sickness."

Makaela gaped at him. His words left her dumbfounded. It was their meaning that bewildered her. No, it was the conviction and belief that scared her. The man was convinced he was right; that made him even more dangerous than he already was.

He reminded her of Thorian. In fact, they were two sides of the same coin.

The humor drained from the hunter's face like a stopper being removed from a filled bathtub. "Now, cut the bullshit. What were you doing in my territory? I won't ask a second time."

To ensure that his threats were empty, a few of his hunters cocked their weapons, producing a noticeable—and slightly intimidating—noise.

Makaela gulped, her heart racing while her stomach tried climbing past her ribcage. Everyone else seemed to be on edge. Well, everyone except for Emile. He was as calm as ever.

"I promise you that we meant no harm to any of you," Emile explained. "We were simply making our way to one of our cities."

"Vashara right?"

How do they know about Vashara?

Emile nodded. "That's the one."

The hunter paused for a moment. "Well, it looks like you won't be making it there." He turned to a woman next to him. "Round them up and follow me."

"Yes, sir!" the other Children of Eden barked in reply.

Within minutes, new shackles and restraints had been put onto the group. They were then ushered out of the building and down the steps. Makaela directed a scathing look at the woman pushing her forward with the barrel of her rifle.

"I'm going to kill you," she grumbled.

The female hunter chuckled. "And how are you going to do that? You're all tied up."

She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Just wait until I get out of these things. She couldn't wait to see the frightened look appear on the woman's face while a killing spell ripped through her chest.

Or perhaps she would draw out her death and inflict her body with a torture curse instead...

Everyone froze.

A series of disjointed howls sounded in the woods around them. The leaves in the trees rustled with the night air, the breeze passing over the clearing as the howls continued. Makaela shivered, the hairs on her neck standing at attention. Through the shadows shrouding the forest, she could see gleaming red eyes shining through the blackness.

A smile spread across her full lips.

Those were no ordinary wolves in the woods. They were Redfangs.

The hunters aiming their weapons at the shadows around them.

"Keep your guard up!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Makaela glanced at Dorian. He was grinning wickedly, his crimson eyes gleaming.

"Good thing you called them," she whispered.

He nodded.

In a flash, multiple wolves, ranging in color from black to ash gray to a ruddy brown, rushed out from the forest and converged on the hunters.

Following behind was a huge wolf, much bigger than the others. His fur was darker than the night sky and the familiar red rune circle Makaela remembered seeing on Dorian's pelt adorned his side.

Seconds later, the wolf transformed into a tall man with shaggy, black hair, shining red eyes, and pale, grainy skin. His dark trench coat flapped behind him as he walked through the battle erupting around him. He stopped in front of Makaela's group, who was only being guarded by a single man.

"S-Stop right there!" the guy said, his lip quivering as he held his rifle at the man's chest.

The man kept forward, prompting the hunter to back up.

"I'm warning you! I-I'll shoot!"

"Yes, because that was so convincing," the elder werewolf quipped.

"Stop—" His sentenced died in his throat.

The older man grinned, showcasing his scraggly teeth, and swiftly grabbed the boy by the neck. He screamed and begged for mercy as he was lifted off the ground.

But everyone knew Redfangs didn't believe in mercy.

A loud, disgusting crack that made Makaela want to throw up followed shortly after as the man in the trench coat flexed his wrist. In an instant, the hunter's lifeless body was flung to the ground.

The man in the trench coat grinned at Dorian, who had his head bowed.

"Well if it isn't my favorite pup. How've you been, Dor?"

Dorian bowed his head for a moment. "Thank you for coming, sir."

Makaela sucked in a breath. She knew this man. He had been present during the battle in Hodvekt weeks before.

It was Oliĉ Redfang, the leader of this pack of werewolves. He looked different than how he did the last time she saw him. His black beard was thicker, and his long hair stopped past his shoulders.

"When a Redfang calls, his family always answers," Oliĉ said with a snaggle-toothed grin. "Now, let's get you all out of these binds."