My heart pounded with intensity, as I took in the gruesome sight before me. The werewolves who had stood by my side now lay scattered—injured, dying, or already dead. Blood stained the ground, pooling beneath the lifeless bodies, surrounded by the stench of death.

  Around the cave's entrance, bodies piled up like discarded remnants of a war already lost. Most of them were Dylan's pack. He had done this—he had butchered his own people without hesitation, without remorse. His actions spoke of a man devoid of conscience, a leader who had long abandoned any regard for life.

  A man detached from reality.

  My fists clenched at my sides, and my blood boiled, stirring the beast within me. "Derrick, I have an important task for you."

  Derrick straightened, awaiting my command.

  "I need you to run. Get as far away from here as you can and seek out Vantos. Tell him I'm counting on his word—that he will keep Lydia and Annie safe from the culling."

  Derrick hesitated, then, assumed his defensive stance again. "I cannot leave your side, my lord. I would rather fight and die alongside you."

  I turned my head slightly, maintaining my eyes on Utica. "Derrick, don't force my hand. Please. Leave."

  Then, a whistle cut through the air. In the blink of an eye, an arrow streaked past me, striking Derrick in the leg. The force of it sent him staggering back, a cry of pain escaping his lips as he collapsed onto one knee. Blood seeped through the wound, pooling beneath him.

  Utica lowered her raised hand, amused by Derrick's reaction. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that."

  She stepped forward, drawing another arrow from her quiver. "I'll deal with the rest of your pack later. But for now, you and your little lord must bite the dust together."

  Her eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "The time to cut a deal with me has ended, puppy. You had your chance. Dylan was smart enough to accept my offer. You must understand—I can't afford to leave any loose ends running around."

  "An alliance with Dylan? A lone wolf? Most of his people have either fled or died at his hands. What do you expect to accomplish with him on your side?"

  Utica chuckled. "You still don't get it, do you? I don't need those pathetic werewolves who ran to your side. They were nothing but the leftovers from the northern pass raids—broken men without the will or skill to fight. Now, imagine something far greater. A few hundred hunters, trained from birth to kill, gifted with the ability to transform into ferocious beasts. That's where true power lies. Once their quivers run empty, once their weapons break in battle, they won't just fall like weak men. No..." Her eyes glowed with a sinister hunger. "They will become something else... monsters. Beasts who will fight on, relentlessly, at my side."

  "Let me guess—you've run out of vampire essence. That's why you're switching to a new poison of choice?"

  "Whether I can still get the elder's essence or not is irrelevant. It won't change your fate. Once I deliver your head on a silver platter to the elder, I'm certain she'll hear my conditions. And as for the warlocks? We both know how they behaved in the last war. They'll cower in their little domains until the culling is over... and then they'll surrender to the victor."

  "You're a fool, Utica. Do you think Elenore will side with you? The elder has no interest in playing soldier with someone like you. She has her own plans. Once she's declared the winner, none of us will live long enough to see the aftermath. Not after her ghoul army crosses the veil into the human world. That's why I will do whatever it takes to stop this senseless war. No matter the cost."

  Utica threw her head back and let out a maniacal laugh. "You're a new kind of stupid, puppy." Her voice dripped with mockery, her eyes glinting with unhinged delight. "The culling is a necessary evil. Vampires will keep creating ghouls. Werewolves will keep infecting humans. And the only way to maintain balance is to slaughter the monsters that roam this town."

  She took a step closer, her presence radiating cold conviction. "If you really think stopping the culling is a good idea, think again. Even if you somehow manage to halt the war between the clans, it won't change anything. It will only be a matter of time before the monsters of Adams spill into the human world, unchecked and uncontested."

  Utica's grin widened as she knocked her arrow, pulling the string back, and aiming at me. "Like it or not, the war needs to happen. The carnage must take place. Even if innocent lives are caught in the crossfire, it is a price that must be paid."

  Then, like a whisper carried by the wind, a chant of words drifted through the air from atop the trees. The voice was distant, accompanied by a familiar scent, a faint smell of lavender.

  I wasn't the only one who heard it. Dylan's head snapped toward the sound; his smug expression shifted into instant worry. "Utica, kill him now! Someone is coming!"

  Utica's grip tightened, her muscles coiling as she prepared to release the arrow aimed at my heart.

  But she never got the chance.

  A sudden barrage of explosive arrows rained down, engulfing the cave's entrance in fire and smoke. The blasts sent shockwaves through the air, fire, and debris swallowing the battlefield in a violent eruption. The impact sent Utica stumbling back, her shot thrown off-course.

  I didn't waste a second.

  Taking advantage of the situation, I pulled the arrow from Derrick's leg and slung him over my shoulder, sprinting away from the chaos. The heat of the explosions licked at my back as I pushed forward, my only goal now was to get him to safety.

  Through the haze of smoke and fire, I spotted the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, its massive form offering a temporary refuge. Without hesitation, I ducked beneath its twisted limbs, carefully lowering Derrick to the ground.

  But as I looked down at him, dread coiled in my stomach. His leg—where the arrow had struck—was turning an unnatural shade, the poison within it creeping like dark veins beneath his skin, slowly spreading through his body.

  I pressed my hand against the wound, trying to stop its advance. "Stay still," I said, though my own voice carried an edge of desperation.

  Derrick let out a weak chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't worry about me, young master. Please... save yourself."

  I clenched my jaw and sat beside him, frustrated, as I was unable to stop the poison from spreading into his body. Useless. That's how I felt. I had strength, I had power, but none of it could stop the slow, merciless death crawling through Derrick's veins.

  His breathing grew shallower. He turned his head toward me, his eyes filled not with fear, but acceptance. "I'm not healing." His voice was weaker now. "The poison... it's burning me from the inside. In a few minutes, I'll be dead. So please, young master..." He coughed, his fingers trembling as he tried to grip my wrist. "Leave while you can."

  As I knelt beside Derrick, my mind raced back to my conversation with Vantos. The memory of that night at the guest house, lying next to Annie, resurfaced—the way he had spoken about the blood transfusion and the unpredictable effects of primal blood coursing through a body that wasn't meant to hold it.

  There was no time for hesitation.

  I extended one of my claws and sliced the palm of my hand, watching as my blood welled up and began to drip freely.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Open your mouth and drink," I said, pressing my bleeding hand against Derrick's lips. "It worked with Annie. It should work with you, too. My blood won't let the poison kill you."

  Derrick weakly resisted at first, but as the thick blood touched his tongue, he began to drink it. Then, his eyes widened, and his body trembled as my blood merged with his own.

  The change was immediate.

  His veins, once darkened by poison, began to pulse with new life. The infection receded, the flesh around the wound knitting itself together at an unnatural speed.

  Derrick exhaled sharply, as the pain vanished from his face. He sat up slowly, his breath still uneven, staring at his hands. "Young master, what have you done to me?"

  I pulled my hand away, already watching the wound on my palm close as if it had never existed.

  "You will survive, Derrick. Stay here and don't move. I have to finish this quickly."

  I knew what had to be done. This encounter would mark the end of their alliance—Dylan and Utica's fragile pact would crumble tonight. Dylan was no longer a threat. He was reckless, desperate, and without true power. He was not a challenge to me.

  But Utica... she was different.

  She was... dangerous. And I knew there was only one way to kill her.

  Her stone-like flesh makes her nearly invincible, but I had learned one fatal weakness in this vampiric ability—the upper part of her stomach. The place where her hardened skin was at its thinnest.

  That's where I would strike. That's where I would end this.

  But getting close enough to Utica would be the real challenge.

  I sprinted back toward the cave, only to find the entrance engulfed in flames. Smoke curled into the night sky, thick and acrid, choking the air around me. And there she was—Utica. Seated near the inferno, completely unbothered. Dylan was nowhere in sight.

  She tilted her head as I approached, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I thought you chickened out on me. That was a clever trick. All my men were instantly wiped out by that little stunt. May I ask... who's the mysterious hunter you have watching your back?"

  I growled low in my throat, my patience gone. "Your guess is as good as mine."

  Without another word, I launched myself forward, closing the distance between us. Utica's smirk widened in amusement, and in a split second, she unsheathed her silver sword, swinging it toward me in a lethal arc.

  I twisted, narrowly dodging the blade as it sliced through the air with deadly precision.

  She was fast.

  Too fast. Her skill with the blade was undeniable. Every move was calculated, pushing me further into a defensive stance.

  "Stop dodging and let me end your misery!" She let out a maniacal laugh, swinging again, missing me by inches. "How long can you keep this up? It seems avoiding death is the only thing you know how to do!"

  I knew I couldn't just dodge forever. I needed an opening. I needed to turn the fight in my favor. With her final words, her blade grazed my chest, a shallow but stinging cut searing across my skin. I cringed at the pain, more from the unexpected hit than the wound itself.

  Utica's grin widened. "Aww, did the little puppy get hurt? Let me tell you a little secret." She lifted the blade, tilting it so the firelight reflected off its coated edge. "The poison on this sword? It's made out of Wolfsbane. Even if you survive a few scratches, the poison will linger in your body, slowly killing you from the inside."

  That might have been true for a lesser werewolf.

  But not for me.

  I clenched my fists, feeling the primal power of the Demon Wolf's curse surge through me. Just as it had for Derrick, my blood burned away the infection, rendering the poison useless.

  Utica's smirk faltered. She saw it. The wound healed almost instantly, the flesh stitching back together in mere moments. Her confidence wavered—but only for a second. Then she scoffed, flashing a feral grin. "I'm glad there are only a few of you!"

  With renewed aggression, she lunged, swinging her silver blade in a vicious arc.

  I prepared to counter—but then a blur of movement caught my eye.

  A distant growl, followed by the crunch of teeth sinking into my flesh.

  Pain shot through my arm.

  Dylan.

  The massive black wolf had appeared out of nowhere, sinking his fangs deep into my forearm. His sheer weight slammed into me, forcing me back a step. A burning sensation spread from the wound, fast and searing, but I ignored it, pushing through the pain.

  With a sharp yank, I wrenched my arm free, stepping back just enough to assess the situation.

  I was surrounded.

  Utica, had discarded her bow and quiver, shedding any unnecessary weight from her body.

  And Dylan, now fully transformed, waiting—looking for an opening to strike.

  Then, Utica laughed. "See? He can be useful after all. I warned you last time we met… the next time we cross paths, would be as enemies."

  I braced myself, preparing to counter their attacks, when suddenly—

  An arrow struck the ground before me.

  The second it made contact, a thick smoke erupted, swallowing the battlefield in a dense, choking fog. The world around me blurred into nothingness. A firm grip pulled me free from the smokescreen, dragging me away from the immediate danger. My feet barely touched the ground before I found myself standing at a distance, away from the chaos.

  Then I saw her.

  A mysterious figure emerged from the swirling mist—a hunter, clad in black attire, walking calmly towards me. The hood of her cloak was drawn low over her face, concealing her features under the darkness of the night.

  That's when it hit me again. A familiar scent drifted toward me. Lavender. Subtle, delicate—yet impossible to forget.

  "It's been a while... puppy," the mysterious woman said.

  I stared at the woman as she closed the distance between us. My muscles tensed, instinct telling me to prepare for an attack—but something was off.

  Her stance was too calm, her breathing measured. There was no malice in her approach. She wasn't here to fight me. Slowly, she lifted her hands to her hood, gripping the fabric before pulling it back.

  The moment her face was revealed, a smile broke across my face.

  "Mel?"

  She had changed.

  Her hair was now shorter, but a streak of white ran through her front bangs. Her light blue eyes shimmered under the moonlight, more intense than I remembered—like they carried secrets I didn't yet understand.

  But one detail stood out more than anything else.

  Her uniform.

  Hunters and Enforcers always bore identification patches on their right shoulder, a mark of their rank and allegiance. But Mel's patch had been torn away, leaving behind only frayed threads where it should have been.

  "It's good to see you again, Mel. A lot has happened since you went away."

  "You don't have to tell me; I can see it in you," she said, staring at the marks of the Demon Wolf covering my skin. "Looks like we've met again under tense circumstances—just like the first day you arrived in town."

  "Your rank—it's been stripped from your uniform. Why?"

  She let out a soft sigh. "I removed it myself. I pledge no allegiance to the new order of hunters. I refused to be part of Chief Harrow's twisted plan to become a hybrid. Most of the new recruits have taken dangerous doses of the elder's essence—except for a few of us who still have our sanity."

  "Sorry to break it to you, but your girlfriend has been a pain in my ass. And I'm afraid I can't let her get away with her plans. You understand that, right? I have to go back and finish them off—before Dylan starts attacking innocent people again."

  Mel sighed, crossing her arms. "I've been keeping an eye on her. She wants to lead the clan, but the amount of elder's essence she's consumed has taken its toll. She's spiraling toward a point of no return," she smirked, then winked at me. "Which means... I'm back in the market as a single girl."

  I blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Despite everything—the chaos, the bloodshed, the looming war—Mel was still Mel. A part of me couldn't help but chuckle.

  "We'll have time to catch up later," Mel said, pulling an arrow from her quiver. "If you're going to stop Utica, you're going to need my help."

  She whispered something under her breath—words I couldn't quite catch. The moment the last syllable left her lips, the tip of the arrow ignited, glowing an incandescent red. Without hesitation, she fired it into a nearby tree, the impact sending a brief pulse of energy outward.

  Then she did it again. And again.

  "They're on the move, be ready," Mel said.

  "You can enchant arrows with magic?" I asked, watching the embers still glowing where her shots had landed.

  Mel smirked. "It's not the only thing I've learned to do." She twirled another arrow between her fingers before slipping it back into her quiver. "Even though they don't teach how to imbue arrows with fire at the academy, I had another teacher, my dad. He was part of the Trade Clan... before he died."

  From the shadows of the trees, Dylan emerged first, moving cautiously toward us. His fur bristled; his yellow eyes burned with malice.

  And then came Utica. The moment she stepped into view, she had already knocked an arrow, the bowstring pulled taut, aiming directly at me.

  "Don't move!" Utica said.

  Mel simply smiled, blinking in amusement before lifting both hands in surrender, playing along with Utica's demands.

  "Turn around and face me, coward!" Utica's voice trembled with rage. "My men are dead because of you!"

  "Be careful with Utica's weapons," I whispered. "They're laced with some kind of poison."

  Mel gave a slight nod, then turned on her heels to face Utica directly.

  The moment Utica's eyes landed on Mel, the tension shifted.

  Her grip on the bow faltered. Rage flickered into shock.

  "Mel?"

  "If you're going to shoot, you might as well do it already."

  Utica's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into her voice. "You're in league with that mutt?" She exhaled sharply, almost in disbelief. "And you killed my men? Why?"

  "Do I really need to answer that? If you take a hard look in the mirror, you'll find the answer yourself. I never thought you'd be one to fall for Harrow's false promises. But now look at you—an undead hunter, wandering around looking for a few 'loyal' friends. It's pathetic."

  Utica let out a sinister laugh.

  "Well, well, well—cutie-putty Mel trying to sound tough. That's adorable. Cut the crap. We both know you can't beat me in a fair fight. So, I'll give you a chance. Walk away from him."

  She extended a hand, palm up, her eyes gleaming with hunger. "Take my hand, Mel. Stand beside me. We can lead the hunter clan together."