Chapter 208
Ayla’s POV
The wind had changed.
It carried something sharp with it—copper and decay.
“Here.” I crouched low behind the ridge, raising a fist to signal Fatima and Sophie to halt. My senses were crackling. Whatever we were tracking was close. “Do you smell that?”
Fatima was already beside me, her curved daggers strapped tightly across her back, eyes narrowed. “Dead flesh and damp stone. That’s a hideout if I ever sensed one.”
Sophie crept in, barely making a sound despite the uneven forest floor. “You two smell everything. All I smell is old socks.”
I shot her a look, and she grinned.
Jake’s cousin had a twisted sense of humor that she somehow never turned off, even when she was armed to the teeth.
We’d left just before dawn. Three she-wolves on a mission that once would’ve required half a battalion of males to complete.
Reports had come in about missing scouts—two from our northern post, three from an allied rogue pack. No blood trails. No screams heard. Just silence and vanishing.
And now here we were, crawling through dense forest, about to descend into a nest of gods-knew-what.
“I count three heat signatures below,” Sophie whispered, tapping her enchanted scanner. “Deep, burrowed about ten meters down. Possibly more.”
I nodded. “We don’t wait. We breach and handle this now. If we wait till nightfall, they’ll move.”
Fatima raised an eyebrow. “Just like that? No backup?”
“We are the backup,” I said simply, and stood.
She smirked. “I knew I liked you.”
We moved in formation—silent, swift, calculated. The mouth of the cavern yawned open beneath the ridge, cloaked by thorn-covered branches and a clever layer of moss. But even nature couldn’t cover the stench of death.
Fatima pulled out her blades.
Sophie took out her silver pistol.
I summoned the beast within.
Not the werewolf. The thing deeper than that. The thing only I carried. A quiet flame under the ribs. A power born not just from blood, but from pain, choice, and defiance.
We slipped into the darkness.
The cavern wasn’t natural. It had been carved—roughly, angrily—into jagged stone. Symbols lined the walls, ones I didn’t recognize. Witch marks, twisted and fractured, glowing faintly blue.
“I don’t like this,” Sophie muttered. “This is beyond werewolf trouble.”
“It’s always more than werewolves lately,” I said.
We stepped carefully, ears tuned for sound. The echo of our steps was too loud.
Then we heard it.
A scrape.
A rasping growl.
I whirled just in time to parry the first strike.
The creature lunged from the shadows, too fast for human eyes—tall, gaunt, skin stretched tight over bones, with eyes that glowed a sickly green.
Not werewolf. Not vampire.
“Ghoul,” Fatima hissed, slicing clean through its extended claws.
The thing shrieked and crumpled, but another emerged. Then another.
They poured from the tunnel ahead, eyes locked on us like hungry dogs.
“Formation!” I barked.
We fell into rhythm. Sophie covered us with rapid fire, silver rounds whizzing through the cavern. Fatima danced between enemies, a blur of blades and blood. And I—my claws extended, my growl shaking the very walls—I let loose.
One came too close, and I leapt, landing hard on its chest, ripping its throat out with one hand and crushing its ribs with the other.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. My instincts surged, raw and unrelenting. I was a Luna—but here, in the thick of danger, I was something far older.
A huntress.
A storm.
A shadow that fought for the light.
When the last ghoul fell, twitching and silent, we stood surrounded by carcasses, breath heaving.
Sophie lowered her gun. “Well, damn.”
Fatima wiped her blades clean on a fallen cloak. “Still alive?”
I flexed my bloodied hands. “Barely.”
But it wasn’t over.
“Look,” I said, pointing deeper into the cavern. There, near the back wall, was a strange circle—etched into the ground, pulsing faintly with blue fire. The symbols were active.
Witch magic.
We approached cautiously. Sophie picked up a stone and tossed it into the circle.
Nothing happened.
Fatima frowned. “This feels like a gate.”
“Or a trap,” I said.
I crouched beside it, examining the runes. They were crude but potent. Not just any witch could conjure this. Whoever made this was working with old, dark magic. Forbidden spells.
“Let’s disable it,” Sophie suggested.
“No,” I said slowly. “We mark it. Log it. Then report to Jake and the council. If there are more of these…”
“Then someone’s building something,” Fatima finished grimly.
“And not for our benefit.”
We backed out, carefully. No rushing. No loud sounds. I was hyperaware of every creak in the stone, every breath.
By the time we reached the surface, the sun was lowering, bathing the trees in gold.
I blinked at the light—at the feel of fresh air—and realized something.
This wasn’t just about protecting the pack anymore.
This was about leading it into the future. Facing the darkness before it reached our doorstep.
I wasn’t just reacting to threats. I was hunting them.
Proactive. Prepared. Unrelenting.
As we hiked back, Sophie looked at me sidelong.
“You’re different when you fight.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “Less worried. Like it’s the one place you trust yourself the most.”
I thought about that.
“I guess it’s the one place I don’t have to be perfect. Just strong.”
Fatima nodded. “You’ve got it, Ayla. Whatever it is. Jake’s lucky.”
“I’m lucky too,” I said softly. “To have you both.”
We reached the edge of the border just as twilight settled in.
My clothes were torn. My arms were scratched. I was bloodied, dirty, exhausted.
But I’d never felt more powerful.
As we crossed into the territory, a few border guards stood straighter, their eyes wide.
“Luna,” one of them said, almost reverently. “Everything alright?”
I looked at him, then at the woods behind us.
“For now,” I said. “But be alert. We’ve just seen the beginning.”
When I finally returned to the packhouse, Jake was waiting at the steps.
He rose immediately when he saw me—eyes scanning, checking for wounds, panic in every movement.
“I’m fine,” I said, and that was all it took.
He crossed to me, cupped my cheeks, and pulled me into a crushing embrace.
“You smell like hell,” he muttered into my hair.
“Dead ghouls do that.”
He laughed, kissed me, then looked into my eyes.
“You did it. Without me.”
“I’m allowed to do things without you, you know.”
“I know,” he said, pride spilling from his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I miss you any less when you go.”
I leaned into him, letting the weight of the day settle in my bones.
“I saw something out there, Jake. Not just creatures. Signs. Magic. It’s coming.”
He nodded, serious now. “Then we prepare. But not tonight.”
“No?”
He smiled softly. “Tonight, you rest. You’re home. You did good.”
I rested my forehead against his chest and closed my eyes.
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