Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50

The second Charlotte bolts out the back door, my wolf, Dusk, howls in protest. Every instinct screams to follow her, but there’s no time. Boots thunder against tile. Guns cock. I plant myself in the center of the ruined diner and bare my teeth. If I die protecting Charlotte, then I die. But I do know one thing. If I survive, I will sink my teeth into her neck and claim her as mine.

Broken glass crunches under my feet, and my fingers curl around the butt of my gun. “Come on then,” I growl.

The first Blackthorn warrior rushes forward with wild eyes. He is clearly infected with the sickness that’s been creeping through our kind. This makes him dangerous, too dangerous to let live. I’m already moving, claws sliding out, catching him across the throat before he can level his weapon. He falls, gurgling, clutching his throat. I watch him fall to the ground, before two more take his place. Bullets zing past me, shattering coffee pots and mirrors.

“Charlotte,” I mutter under my breath, ducking behind the counter, “you’d better be fucking running.”

There is no time to dwell on the thought that Charlotte might have stayed behind. Peeking over the counter, I fire my weapon, hitting a Blackthorn warrior in the forehead. A bullet grazes my shoulder and I slip back behind the counter, cursing under my breath.

I stand again, firing my gun in the direction of a wolf. Another wolf lunges over the bar at me. I catch him mid–air and throw him into the grill station hard enough to dent the metal. Another swings a blade at my ribs. Pain blossoms as it skims me, but rage eats it whole. Dusk surges up my spine and takes my muscles. Bones crack, claws lengthen, and I half–shift, towering over them, jaws lined with fangs.

The door explodes open behind me, and for a second, I think it’s another squad. But the scent hits me first. Jake.

“About damn time!” I snarl.

He doesn’t answer, just barrels into the fray, his wolf, Strom, screaming behind his eyes. I swallow at the sight of him. Storm is dangerous under normal circumstances, and I am not positive he won’t kill me when he is done with the warriors in front of him.

He’s full–shifted before his feet hit the tile, a massive grey blur tearing through Blackthorn warriors with fangs and claws. The diner fills with the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder, shouts and snarls echoing off cracked tile.

We fight back–to–back like we used to as boys. No time to hate him. No time to ask how he knew we were here. The only rhythm is strike, dodge, tear, breathe..

Still, they keep coming. Half a dozen wolves circle us, eyes glowing sickly yellow. Another squad squeezes in through the back room, where Ethel’s body still lies cooling. They’re trying to box us in.

Jake’s shoulder slams against mine. “There are too many!‘ he barks through the mind–link.

‘I know!‘ My claws drip red. My lungs burn.

One warrior lunges at my back. Another drives a silver spike at Jake’s throat. We’re seconds from being overwhelmed when the room goes….quiet.

It’s not the normal kind of quiet. It’s like the air is sucked out of the world. The lights flicker, then die. Shadows crawl up the walls like liquid. Every wolf freezes, nostrils flaring, instinct screaming at them to run.

Then Theo steps through the back door.

He isn’t even looking at the warriors. His eyes are black pits rimmed in molten gold, his face calm and terrible. He raises one hand, fingers trailing smoke, and the nearest wolf simply…disintegrates. Ash floats down where a body had been. Another is

foolish enough to charge Theo, the sickness clouding his judgment. Theo’s eyes darken, and a str.

irk spreads over his

lips. The wolf melts into he ground, seeping into the cracks of the floor. One tries to run; Theo flicks a finger, and it crumples like paper.

“What the hell?” Jake mutters as he shifts back into his human form.

Theo doesn’t answer. He sweeps his hand in an arc, and the remaining Blackthorn warriors scream as they’re lifted off the ground, bones snapping, claws clawing at nothing. In seconds, the diner is empty except for us and the dead.

He lowers his hand and exhales like nothing happened. His eyes dim back to a more human shade, but the scent of brimstone lingers.

I’m panting, half–shifted, blood dripping down my arm. “You’re late,” I rasp.

Theo’s gaze slides over me and Jake as though we’re unimportant details. “Where is she?”

“She ran,” I bite out. “Like I told her to do.”

Something flickers across his face; disappointment? Frustration? It’s gone too fast to name. He steps over a corpse and heads toward the back door.

Jake snarls after him. “You think wiping out a pack squad makes you the hero?”

Thes

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