I gritted my teeth as a fresh wave of pain rocketed through my body. No one ever told me that when I was badly injured and bleeding out all over the ground, that once the initial shock wore off, the pain came not all at once but in volleys, as though it were sending wave after wave of pain soldiers to battle over possession of my body.

Something was supposed to happen, but it hadn’t happened yet. The wolves were getting agitated, but the delay had given me time to collect myself. The panic had subsided a little. I was no longer going to throw up. My hands were still shaking, but that might have also been from the blood loss. I had no desire to pass out again. Instead, I felt a determined survival instinct click in. I’d been living with Angus’ terror for nearly a week now, and I hadn’t died yet. I could find a way out of this.

It took me three tries, but I managed to rip off the torn sleeve of my shirt. Pain stabbed down my arm every time I moved it, and watching my blood trickle out of the wound was starting to make me feel dizzy. I’d planned to tie the material around my shoulder to staunch the bleeding, but I now realised I couldn’t physically do it, and I couldn’t exactly ask Robbie to do it for me.

The wolves had ceased their dancing, and now stood around in a circle, facing the trees and occasionally letting out low, menacing growls. Two of the smaller wolves had disappeared into the forest some minutes ago, presumably to act as scouts. Angus stood on top of one of the shelters, staring into the trees. Every few minutes he circled around impatiently, snapping at the other wolves crowding his feet.

There was no sign of Caleb, or anyone else. Maybe he heard my pleas. Maybe he was staying away. Which meant that any moment now, they would figure out Caleb was no longer in the forest, and they’d kill me.

Damn them if they thought I was going to go down on my back in the middle of a wolf pack, without even putting up a fight. I placed my good hand on the ground and tried to heave myself up. Pain shot down my arm as soon as it moved. I kept pushing, trying to force myself through it. Tears streamed down my face.

You have to do this. You have to get to your feet and run for the trees—

It seemed impossible. But so did carrying on after my house was burned down, and I did that anyway. I could do this too. I dug my fingers into the earth, and pushed with all my might.

As I raised my back off the ground, a long, low howl echoed through the trees. The wolves turned to each other, their eyes wide. Hope surged in my chest, mingling with fresh fear. I’d recognise that howl anywhere.

It’s Caleb!

Before I had time to think, hundreds of wolves tore from the trees, barrelling down toward the circle that surrounded me. Angus leapt back in surprise, his feet toppling off the back of the lean-to. He scrabbled for a foothold as the wolves bore down on him.

At the front of the approaching pack, I saw two foxes ducking and weaving between the wolves. Above them, a black raven swooped low, its wings spread wide and its talons pointed directly at Angus. Beside them, a great grey wolf with a red streak down his back tossed his head back, and howled.

Caleb.

My heart soared to see him, majestic in his fury as he bore down upon his foes. As more wolves poured out of the trees and fell into line behind him, I realised he hadn’t just come to rescue me, he’d brought a whole damn army.

Where did they all come from?

I had no time to ponder it, for the wolves crashed into each other. Limbs and fur flew everywhere. Claws sliced through the air, jaws snapped, teeth tore at flesh and bone. The world around me became a surging ocean of snarling wolves piling on top of each other in a desperate attempt to gain control of the clearing. They moved so fast, I couldn’t even tell who was winning.

An acrid smell filled my nostrils. Blood. Werewolf blood.

I heaved my torso into an upright position, tears streaming down my face as I jerked my torn shoulder. I slid backwards, so I was leaning against a stack of tires, pulling my legs up to hide in its shadow. My eyes swept back and forth, searching for one wolf.

Caleb, where are you?

The fighting started to thin out as several of Douglas’ wolves ran for the trees, chased by Caleb’s recruits. The black raven soared down, waving its wings at one of Douglas’ wolves as it tried to approach me, and it turned away, yelping as the raven pecked at its back. I cried out in triumph, until I saw the scene they left behind. Wolves lay dead in dark puddles, their necks torn open, limbs bent at impossible angles. Beautiful, powerful creatures reduced to meat and bone.

No. This isn’t what I wanted. I couldn’t bear the idea of Caleb in the midst of that fray, dishing out death and destruction, or worse, having his throat ripped out by his own jealous stepbrother.

“Stop,” I tried to yell over the din, but all that came out was a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Stop right now!”

If they heard me, they didn’t care.

A voice rose over the din. A human voice, sharp and piercing. A voice that wasn’t my own.

“Douglas Maclean, what do ye think you’re doing? Stop this madness right now!”