Chapter 50

50 Chapter 50 A Celebration of Blood

Rowan’s POV

“What the hell is happening?” Marcus’s voice cut through the mayhem, sharp with disbelief. “Those are Raven Deons, aren’t they p>

The creatures that stumbled out of the thick fog bore little resemblance to the feared warriors we knew them to be. These weren’t the disciplined fighters who served under Hardy’s command.

They were broken. Even transformed into their wolf forms, every movement screamed of defeat. Their fur was sticky with blood, both their own and that of others. Wounds gaped across their backs and sides, some so deep that white bone gleamed through the torn flesh. One limped forward on three legs, the fourth dragging uselessly behind with what looked like a shattered joint. Another’s muzzle was twisted at an impossible angle, fangs still bared but caked with dried

gore.

Their breathing came in harsh rasps, each exhale

sounding like a death rattle. Arrow shafts jutted from multiple bodies, the broken wood embedded so deeply that pulling them free would likely prove fatal. The

acrid smell of singed hair filled the air, evidence that someone had gotten close enough to use fire as a

weapon.

Marcus’s eyes went cold as he studied the wounded pack. “Weren’t they supposed to ambush Hardy’s forces? Why do they look like they walked into a massacre p>

Rowan moved closer to Marcus, his gaze sweeping over the line of battered predators. “Are you absolutely certain Hardy took the poison p>

“Without question,” Marcus replied, his voice steady as steel. “I watched him drain every last drop from that cup p>

“Then maybe they found a way to neutralize it p>

Marcus’s head snapped toward him, his expression grim. “Not possible.” He glanced back at their men, all of them watching the carnage unfolding at the edge of

the fog. “But since we’ve already committed to this p>

Rowan started to speak, but Marcus lifted his hand in a gesture that demanded silence. His face remained neutral, but the meaning was crystal clear.

Rowan’s muscles tensed as unwanted memories surfaced. Images of Hardy’s ruthlessness flashed through his mind, the speed with which he could kill, the way he eliminated threats without warning or mercy. If the poison had failed, if he’d somehow survived their carefully laid trap, his revenge would be both swift and devastating.

He nodded curtly. Marcus kept his attention fixed on the struggling Raven Deons as he addressed his

commanders. “We attack the Raven Deons. Leave none

alive p>

The command rippled through their ranks like lightning.

Rowan understood immediately. This battle would provide perfect cover for entering the fog, and once they were inside, they’d be able to locate Hardy’s true position.

He turned to Nick. “Lead the spearmen around their left flank. Archers hold the center line and make every shot count. Everyone else follows me straight through their middle p>

Acknowledgments came back as low growls. Shields snapped into position. Spear points gleamed.

Then, with a battle cry that tore through the fog, both packs charged forward.

The collision was savage. A Raven Deon threw itself at one of their shield bearers, claws scraping deep furrows in the reinforced wood, only to be impaled on a spear that burst through its ribcage. Another launched itself at a Duskwood archer, snapping jaws barely missing the man’s throat, before a blade came down in a devastating arc, cleaving through skull and snout in a single strike.

The fog grew denser around them, reducing visibility until they could barely distinguish friend from foe.

Arrows whistled past their heads, some finding their targets, others disappearing into the white void. Warriors shouted coordinates and confirmed kills.

Wolves screamed in agony and fury. A spear team managed to pin one Raven Deon to the earth, holding it immobile while another soldier brought a war axe down repeatedly until the head separated from the body.

One of their Duskwood fighters let out a shriek as a Deon’s claws opened his belly. Blood streamed between his fingers as he collapsed, and the Deon prepared to leap at its next victim, only to be hammered aside by a Howler’s shield, then finished with a blade thrust between the ribs.

A sound pierced the fog then, a howl unlike anything Rowan had ever heard. This wasn’t a call to battle or a cry for aid. This sound crawled under the skin, high and unnatural, making every hair on his body stand at attention.

The fighting stopped. Men froze with weapons raised. Even the Raven Deons, snarling and bleeding, went still like prey animals sensing something far more dangerous approaching.

Then a voice boomed through the mist, clear and unmistakable. “Slaughter the Raven Deons! Kill every

last one p>

Shapes materialized from the fog, silhouettes

sharpening into black and crimson. They moved with frightening speed, weapons gleaming with fresh blood, their attacks brutal and uncontrolled.

Hardy’s forces.

They weren’t fighting like disciplined soldiers. They fought like rabid beasts released from captivity. Swords carved through flesh, claws stripped bone, spears punched through torsos. Raven Deons dropped one by one, not merely defeated but completely destroyed. Updates are released by fıp>

Marcus and Rowan exchanged a look of pure shock. This was the exact opposite of what they’d anticipated.

A horn blast cut through the slaughter, sharp and final.

From the black and red formation, a recognizable figure approached. Physician Allen. His armor bore fresh bloodstains, his gauntlets dented from recent combat.

He stopped several feet away and offered what might

have been a respectful nod, though his eyes held no deference whatsoever.

“This is quite surprising,” Allen said, his tone carrying a casualness that seemed obscene given the massacre continuing behind him.

Marcus recovered first. “We heard reports of an ambush,” he replied smoothly. “We responded immediately p>

Allen’s lips curved into something resembling amusement. “How considerate.” His gaze moved between Marcus and Rowan, reading far more than their words revealed. “But your concern is unnecessary. The Raven Deons have been eliminated p>

He gestured carelessly toward the ongoing slaughter where the final enemies were being butchered. “Every single one who dared threaten us is now dead p>

Marcus’s expression hardened. “Then we’ll withdraw. This isn’t an appropriate time for p>

“Festivities?” Allen cut him off, tilting his head with mock curiosity. “Why not? Victory deserves recognition, wouldn’t you agree? And since you’re

already here, you should celebrate with us p>

Rowan’s voice came out clipped. “During a war p>

Allen’s smile widened rather than faded. “What war?

The Raven Deons are finished. And while we stand

here talking, another of our units is dealing with different enemies p>

The implication hit both Marcus and Rowan like ice

water.

Marcus’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What exactly are you suggesting p>

Allen maintained his light tone, but his stare locked onto them with predatory intensity. “That’s classified information. And if I shared it with you, it wouldn’t be classified anymore, would it p>

His words left no room for doubt. He knew. He knew they hadn’t come as allies. He knew about their plan to eliminate Hardy. The tension between them became almost suffocating. Marcus’s jaw clenched. Rowan’s

hands curled into fists.

Allen observed their reactions and released a low

chuckle. “Well, since you’ve already made the journey, you must join our celebration. Share some excellent wine. Let’s enjoy this night, Alphas. You never know how many more you’ll have.” As his laughter echoed, the soldiers behind him began laughing as well.

Sara Lili

Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.