Russel’s heart practically leaped out of his chest the minute he saw the dead woman. His first thought was that the body he stumbled on was Lola. He almost lost it right there but then he realized the hair was the wrong color. Even covered in blood he saw several clumps of dark, almost black hair. Lola’s was a medium, ash-brown color. The shape of the face was different too. He could tell even though it was mutilated.

It wasn’t Lola.

Thank the gods, he thought and immediately hated himself for it. It wasn’t Lola but it was still someone he cared about. One of his oldest friends. He bent down and gently closed the woman’s open, staring eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lilith,” he whispered.

He stood back up, rage whirling through his mind like a hurricane. His hands clenched into tight fists. All the pain. All the death. He was going to stop it all. But first, he wanted to get back to Lola.

The explosions started to get less frequent and as he ran through the camp, he completely destroyed anyone that even came into contact with him. Most were barely a challenge. They were wolves, true, but weak. None of them looked as if they were in good health. All it took was one swipe of a clawed hand, a punch, or a toss and the wolves went down without any other trouble. He kept moving forward, picking up into a run.

“Don’t let them get past.”

He heard the command given and recognized the voice. It was Roland’s. His brother had assumed some kind of leadership role, which Russel thought was a good sign. He followed the sounds to them, hoping that Lola was there too. The smoke was starting to fade away and he could see things a bit more clearly. A few moments later he found his brother, Ays, Maks, and a few surviving Harvenk wolves. They were fighting off a group of maybe twenty or twenty-five of the mangy wolves Drake commanded. He didn’t see Lola there but he knew he couldn’t leave them to fight alone.

I’ll find you soon, Lola, he promised himself.

Then he hurried over to the group so he could help fight Drake’s army of rebel wolves. As soon as he got there, the others glanced over at him. He saw relief in their eyes, even, he noted, Roland’s. It appeared his brother wasn’t quite so against him as he might have thought.

“I’m weirdly glad to see you're okay,” Roland said as he rushed over to them. “Things are getting serious.”

“They’ve already killed Lilith, Your Majesty,” Maks said. There was a note of bitter pain and grief in his voice.

“It was not an…easy death, Rus,” Ays told him. That same pain and grief in his eyes.

He tried to imagine what the enemy wolves must have done to his old friend and quickly forced himself to stop. The images were too much. To add to it, Lilith’s face would eventually change into Lola’s and that did nothing but torment him.

“We end this, here and now,” Russel said. He looked at the Harvenk wolves. “Stand with me and maybe we all get out of this alive. Will you fight alongside us?”

There were five of them in total. Each gave him a firm nod.

“Aye,” one said. “We’ll follow your lead, Sire.”

“Good,” Russel said. “There are a lot of them but individually, they are weak. Together, we are much stronger.”

“Then we take the fight directly to them. Wipe them out right now,” Roland said. There was a fire in him that Russel had never really seen before. It appeared being in an actual fight for his life unlocked something inside his brother.

“We need to finish them in a hurry. I have to get to Lola,” Russel said.

“Then give the order,” Roland said.

Russel clapped him on the back. Then he turned and charged straight at the group of attacking werewolves. A roar erupted out of his throat and behind him, the others did the same. The two groups of wolves met in a clash a few minutes later. Russel trusted that the others would take care of themselves. His main mission was to dispatch the rebels as quickly as possible. Always on the back of his mind was Lola and getting to her so he could make sure she was okay. So he did what he had to do and didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it. He broke those wolves. And Roland, Ays, Maks, and the others did as well. The smaller, weaker wolves were not quite as strong but they were vicious. And fast. They came at them all in a wild, frenzied rush, like some kind of berserker rage afflicted each one. But even so, it was not enough.

Russel and those with him were stronger.

Bodies started to fly through the air. Blood splattered against skin and fur. Wolves ripped each other open, slicing into anyone they could get their claws into. Russel spent the first few minutes of the opening attack just decimating their ranks and ripping them to shreds. In just a short time, he already killed at least six of the rebels. They lay in pieces on the ground. After he killed the last one, he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his back and realized someone had just buried their claws in him. Aysir was already there a moment later, ripping the wolf off him and tossing him about ten feet away with one titanic throw. Then the fighting resumed again, the pain already fading as the wounds healed themselves.

“That’s him,” one of the mangy wolves shouted. He was pointing a clawed finger right at Russel. “The Oclan king. Whatever we do, we must take him down!”

The order seemed to rally his fighters and they renewed their efforts to kill Russel and those following him. The one that had pointed him out came to stand a yard or two away from him. This one, Russel noted, was a bit stockier than the rest. Maybe he was more well-fed. It probably meant the wolf was a higher-ranking member of their pathetic army.

“Take your best shot,” Russel said.

Right as those words came out of his mouth, a group of seven or eight of them collided into his right side. So focused on the group’s leader, he didn’t notice them. The impact didn’t hurt but the force of their hit knocked him off his feet and sent him slamming into the ground. Momentarily dazed, it took a few seconds to get his bearings. While he did, a flurry of claws and snapping fangs descended down on him. He felt the wounds and their pain but forced all that away. It would only distract him and the pain wouldn’t last forever. If he succumbed to it, that would only make the situation worse.

He was on his back, which made things hard for him. He had no leverage and getting back up proved to be challenging. He tried to roll over onto his stomach so he could push off the ground with his arms and legs, but they wouldn't let him. Every time he got close, they would just yank him by a shoulder and put him on his back again. A few seconds before he almost lost his cool completely and flipped out, the wolves started disappearing off him one by one. When they were all gone, he looked up and saw Roland and Maks there. Maks held out a hand to him.

“Lying down? I don’t see how that helps us,” Roland said, a tiny smirk on his face.

Russel brushed off his irritation, took Maks’ hand, and got back to his feet and not a second too soon. The wolves came at them again but this time, there was no one there to distract him and he met their attack with brutal savagery. Roland and Maks did too. In less than a minute, the three were the only ones left standing. They looked around, hunting for their next prey as it were but no one was left.

“We finished off the rest for you,” Ays said, coming up to them. He had several tears in his clothes and blood stained them but other than that, he looked fine. With him were the Harvenk wolves that fought with them. They looked like they were in a similar state but otherwise fine as well.

“Good,” Russel said. “Let’s get back to Lola. With the smoke finally starting to clear, we’ll be able to find her more easily and anyone else that might need us.”

“Have you seen Ray?” Roland asked. “When the attack first started, we got separated. I haven’t seen him since.”

“No,” Russel answered and if he was being honest, he hadn’t really thought about his other brother. His focus had been on staying alive and finding Lola. “I’m sure he’s fine. We’ll find him.”

Roland didn’t say anything to contradict his brother but there was a look of uncertainty on his face all the same. The Polver brothers had grown up always testing themselves against each other and yes, at times, they had ganged up on Russel but at the end of the day, they were family. Roland understood this, probably better than the rest being the firstborn.

“I hope you're right about that,” he said.

Russel didn’t say anything back to that and instead, looked all around them. There were more of the rebel wolves out there. He could hear them, but they were farther away. Too far to really be of any concern to them.

Finally, the last of the smoke dissipated. There were no more explosions. He could finally take stock of the situation. It wasn’t great. As more details of their camp came into view, he realized the timed attack from the rebels had been disastrously effective. Some of their tents were ablaze. Bodies were scattered all over the ground. Their stock of supplies had been ruined. Not much could be salvaged.

And then, he finally caught sight of Lola. She had shifted into the same form from when she fought Drake in the Pit. He could see her zipping around in a dark blur of motion, killing and flinging rebel wolves all over the place. Almost out of view were two figures watching the whole thing.

One was clearly Drake.

The other was Ray. Russel could tell by the short, stocky nature of the silhouette.

“Traitor,” Russel snarled.

Before the others could stop him, he ran full out toward Lola.

As he did, a gunshot rang through the air.