The battlefield lay in ruins. Bodies of hunters and wolves littered the old family hunting grounds. Smoke curled from spent wolfsbane canisters, and the moon cast a bloody glow over everything. Naida leaned heavily against Modric, her side burning from the deep gash, silver poison making her vision blur at the edges. The pack howled in victory around them, but the fight wasn’t over.
Elias Knight rose from the dirt where Modric had dropped him. Blood soaked his shirt from the knife wound Naida had given him earlier. His eyes—cold, hateful—locked on her with pure disgust.
“You think this ends it?” he rasped, pulling a hidden silver dagger from his boot. “I should have killed you the day you were born, you weak little bitch.”
He lunged.
Naida reacted on pure instinct. She shoved Modric ba
