“The sight of those wolves in this city is a disgrace,” Ithan snarled. “No one’s going to stomach this shit.”
“You’d be surprised what people will stomach when they find their families threatened,” Cormac said. “I’ve seen cities and towns fall silent in the wake of a dreadwolf pack’s arrival. Places as vibrant as this, now warrens of fear and mistrust. They, too, thought no one would tolerate it. That someone would do something. Only when it was too late did they realize that they should have done something.”
A chill ran up Ruhn’s arms. “I have to make some calls. The Aux and the 33rd run this city. Not the Hind.” Shit, he’d have to see his father. He might be a bastard, but the Autumn King wouldn’t appreciate having the Hind infringe on his turf.
Ithan’s jaw twitched. “I wonder what Sabine and the Prime will do about them.”
“No loyalty among wolves?” Cormac asked.
“We are wolves,” Ithan challenged. “The dreadwolves … they’re demons in wolves’ fur. Wolves in name only.”
“And if the dreadwolves request to stay at the Den?” Cormac asked. “Will the Prime or Sabine find their morals holding firm?”
Ithan didn’t answer.
Cormac went on, “This is what the Asteri do. This is Midgard’s true reality. We believe we are free, we are powerful, we are near-immortals. But when it comes down to it, we’re all the Asteri’s slaves. And the illusion can be shattered this quickly.”
“Then why the fuck are you trying to bring this shit here?” Ithan demanded.
“Because it has to end at some point,” Ruhn murmured. He shuddered inwardly.
Cormac opened his mouth, surprise lighting his face—but whirled as a male—towering and muscle-bound and clad in the impeccable uniform of the dreadwolves—appeared at the other end of the alley. So many silver darts covered his collar that from a distance, it looked like a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth around his neck.
“Mordoc,” Ithan breathed. Genuine fear laced his scent. Cormac motioned for the wolf to be silent.
Mordoc … Ruhn scanned his memory. The second in command to the Hind. Her chief butcher and enforcer. The dreadwolf monitored the alley with golden, glowing eyes. Dark claws glinted at his fingertips. As if he lived in some state between human and wolf.
Cormac’s nose crinkled. The prince trembled, anger and violence leaking from him. Ruhn gripped his cousin’s shoulder, fingers digging into the hard muscle.
Slowly, Mordoc prowled down the alley. Noting the brick walls, the dusty ground—
Fuck. They’d left tracks all over this alley. None of them dared to breathe too loudly as they pressed into the wall.
Mordoc angled his head, scalp gleaming through his buzzed hair, then crouched, muscles flexing beneath his gray uniform, and ran a thick finger through a footprint. He lifted the dirt to his nose and sniffed. His teeth—slightly too long—gleamed in the dimness of the alley.
Mind-to-mind, Ruhn asked Cormac, Does Mordoc know your scent?
I don’t think so. Does he know yours?
No. I’ve never met him.
Ruhn said to Ithan, who jolted slightly at the sound of Ruhn’s voice in his mind, Do you know Mordoc? Have you met him before?
Ithan’s gaze remained on the powerful male now rising to sniff the air. Yes. A long time ago. He came to visit the Den.
Why?
Ithan at last responded, eyes wide and pained. Because he’s Danika’s father.
Bryce had enough presence of mind to draw the Starsword. To rally her power even though the thing before them … Oh gods.
“Allow me to introduce my shepherd,” the Under-King said from the mist ahead, standing beside a ten-foot-tall black dog. Each of its fangs was as long as one of her fingers. All hooked—like a shark’s. Designed to latch into flesh and hold tight while it ripped and shredded. Its eyes were milky white—sightless. Identical to the Under-King’s.
Her light would have no effect on something that was already blind.
The dog’s fur—sleek and iridescent enough that it almost resembled scales—flowed over bulky, bunched muscle. Claws like razor blades sliced into the dry ground.
Hunt’s lightning crackled, skittering at Bryce’s feet. “That’s a demon,” he ground out. He’d fought enough of them to know.
“An experiment of the Prince of the Ravine’s, from the First Wars,” the Under-King rasped. “Forgotten and abandoned here in Midgard during the aftermath. Now my faithful companion and helper. You’d be surprised how many souls do not wish to make their final offering to the Gate. The Shepherd … Well, it herds them for me. As it shall herd you.”
“Fry this fucker,” Bryce muttered to Hunt as the dog snarled.
“I’m assessing.”
“Assess faster. Roast it like a—”
“Do not make a joke about—”
“Hot dog.”
Bryce had no sooner finished saying the words than the hound lunged. Hunt struck, swift and sure, a lightning bolt spearing toward its neck.
It screamed, dodging to the left, an obelisk crumbling beneath it. Bryce pivoted to where the Under-King had been, but only mist remained.
Coward.
Hunt struck again, forked lightning splitting the sky before it slammed into the creature’s back, but it rolled once more, shaking off the lightning.
“The fuck,” Hunt panted, drawing his sword and gun as he moved in front of Bryce. The Shepherd halted, eyeing them. Then the hound peeled apart.
First its head split, two other heads joining the first. And then the three-headed dog continued to separate until three hounds snarled at them. Three beasts that shared one mind, one goal: Kill.
“Run,” Hunt ordered, not taking his focus from the three dogs. “Get back to the river and fucking swim.”
“Not without you.”
“I’ll be right behind.”
“Just fly us—”
The dog to the left snarled, bristling. Bryce faced it, and in that blink, the one on the right leapt. Hunt’s lightning snapped free, and Bryce didn’t hesitate before she turned and ran.
Mist swallowed her, swallowed Hunt until he was nothing but light rippling behind her. She sped past obelisks and stone mausoleums. Resting places for the dead, or mere cages to keep them until they could become food, valuable for their firstlight? Secondlight.
Thunderous steps crunched behind her. She dared a glance over her shoulder.
One of the hounds rampaged at her heels, closing the distance. Hunt’s lightning flashed behind it, along with his bellow of rage. That was her mate she was leaving behind—
Bryce cut inland. The beast, apparently convinced she was making a run for the river, pivoted too slowly. It crashed into a mausoleum, sending both structure and hound sprawling. Bryce kept running. Sprinted as fast as she could back toward Hunt.
But the mist was a labyrinth, and Hunt’s lightning seemed to launch from everywhere. Obelisks loomed like giants.
Bryce slammed into something hard and smooth, her teeth punching through her lower lip and the Starsword clattering out of her hand. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth as she hit the ground. Flipping over, she peered up to find herself sprawled before a crystal archway.
The Dead Gate.