Free Web NovelChapter 383: Chapter 383 Bloodwork
Ezra POV
Chaos doesn’t arrive like a single moment, it arrives like weather, rolling in layers, sound and scent and movement stacking until the world becomes nothing but decisions made too fast and consequences that follow faster.
The clearing by the treeline is already torn up when I hit it at a run, dirt churned into ridges, pine needles scattered, blood marking paths that weren’t there a minute ago, and through all of it there is one thing I’ve been missing since they took her, one thing that has sat like a constant ache under my skin, no matter how hard I tried to keep my head clear.
Allison and Ruby.
She’s here, dark blue fur flashing under the dim wash of moonlight, five tails cutting through the air as she pivots, and even from a distance I can see she’s not caged, not broken and not bowed. Meadow is still over the kill site, massive and dark, head lifted, shoulders squared, and Lizzy’s wolf is down in the dirt where she fell, motionless in a way that isn’t temporary.
Meadow made it final.
The scent of it hits like a punch, hot and metallic, and there’s a rough satisfaction in my chest that I don’t bother to deny, because Lizzy aimed for Ruby’s neck and she would have ended it if she could, and the world is cleaner without that kind of intent walking around free.
I shifted as I moved, Damon surging forward with eager ferocity, muscle and mass flowing into place as paws slam into earth, and the world sharpens into sound and scent so clean it feels almost ruthless. And when we’re at her side, she is still breathing. Thank the Goddess because I would not have survived without her in our lives.
Ruby rises.
She shakes once, a full-body motion that sends dirt and blood flecks outward, and then she holds still, head lifted, eyes scanning and posture proud even when her breath is a little rougher than it should be. There’s blood on her fur, shallow cuts along her shoulder and flank, nothing that smells deep, nothing that screams panic, and my relief is immediate enough that it almost knocks me off balance.
Damon makes a sound low in his throat, not a growl aimed at her, but something closer to recognition, and he moves in instinctively, closing the distance while the fight churns around us, because this is what matters and everything else can wait half a second.
’There you are,’ Damon links, the words vibrating with raw relief.
Ruby’s ears flick toward me, her gaze meeting ours, and I can’t mindlink her like she’s mine alone, not the way I can with my brothers, but I can still see the steadiness in her eyes, and I can see that she’s holding Allison’s control inside her posture, not reckless, not wild, just ready. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
Damon lowers his head and sniff along her shoulder, then her side, then the line of her ribs, checking the wounds the way wolves do when they don’t trust what their eyes are telling them, and the blood smell is surface, sharp and recent but not deep, and Damon’s tension eases a fraction.
’Superficial,’ he confirms to me, satisfied.
He is about to lift his head and move with her, to place himself between her and the next threat the way our body has been trying to do for hours, when pain knifes through us so suddenly our legs buckle.
It isn’t a strike and it isn’t impactful.
It’s inside, a sharp, invasive burn that threads through muscle and nerve like something has hooked into our body and pulled, and Damon howls before I can stop him, sound ripping out into the night.
His paws skid., and our chest slams toward the ground.
He catches himself at the last moment and snarls, teeth bared at nothing, because there’s no enemy in front of us, no blade, no claws, no physical cause, and that absence makes it worse.
Magic, maybe a hex. Something threaded in from a distance. Damon hunches low, shoulders shaking, and I feel his fury like a storm inside his skin.
’Cowards,’ he spits, voice thick with pain. ’They’re not even close.’
Our vision blurs at the edges for a second, then clears enough for me to see movement beyond Ruby, figures stepping into the outer edge of the clearing with a confidence that doesn’t belong in a fight this raw.
Witches.
Not Mateo’s kind of magic, not disciplined, not careful, but dark and aggressive, wardwork turned into weaponry, their auras sharp enough that even the trees seem to pull away from them. They spread out in a loose line, hands lifting, mouths moving, and the air changes as spells form.
Ruby’s head snaps toward them.
She whines once, low and furious, then her posture shifts, weight settling deeper into her paws, tails fanning out as her focus locks.
My mate is not a rabbit, not prey and then Ruby teleports.
One heartbeat she’s beside me, and the next she’s in front of the witches, space folding with a crackle of displaced air, her movement so fast it makes my eyes sting. One of the witches jerks in surprise, and Ruby’s power hits her like an invisible fist, levitating her clean off the ground.
The witch’s limbs flail as Ruby twists her head slightly, and the levitated body slams into a tree with a violent, wet impact that makes bark shudder and needles rain down.
The witch doesn’t get up.
Another witch screams and snaps a spell toward Ruby, something bright and ugly that would have landed if Ruby stayed still, but she moves again, fast enough that the spell clips only air, and the moment the witch commits to that strike, the pressure inside my body eases.
Damon inhales sharply, the pain releases as if a hook has been yanked free and his legs stop shaking. His balance returns.
A targeted tether, then, anchored through proximity, through line of effect, and it tells me everything I need to know about how they intend to fight, not with honor, not with risk, but with leverage.
I surge forward anyway, because Ruby is too close to that line and because I refuse to watch her take hits alone, even if she’s handling them with a ferocity that should terrify anyone watching.
I’m about to break into a full run when Abigail’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp enough to slice attention in half.
"You try that again," she calls, and even without seeing her I can hear the steel in every syllable, "and I will drag your souls out through your own throats, do you understand me, you miserable fucking leeches." The witches flinch.
Not all of them, but enough.
