The night was thick with the stench of blood and burning flesh. Smoke coiled lazily into the air, swallowing the moonlight above. The once-proud Iron Fang Pack lay in ruins, bodies littered the ground, torn apart as if by a storm of claws and fury. Trees had been ripped from their roots, huts reduced to rubble, and the earth itself bore the scars of a massacre.

Derek walked through the carnage like a god of death. His bare chest glistened with blood that was not his own, every muscle tensed beneath the pale glow of the moon. His eyes burned gold, alive with the beast within. Each step he took made the ground tremble slightly, the world itself seeming to recoil from him.

When the messenger had arrived with Magnus’s summons, Derek had not hesitated. He already knew who dared to taunt him. Only one wolf in the entire northern kingdom was foolish enough to lure him to Raven Hill. Only one who had been desperate enough to risk his pack’s extinction for revenge.

Magnus.

Derek’s lips twisted into something between a snarl and a smile. He had expected this. The sly wolf had always been driven by ambition, by envy. But to think he could bait Derek into a trap, it almost amused him. Almost.

Still, the moment Derek read the message, he had known one truth: Magnus would not stop until he was buried. And Derek, in his nature, did not wait for threats to grow roots. So before heading to Raven Hill, he had come here, to the Iron Fang stronghold, and turned it into nothing but ashes and screams.

Now, there was nothing left. The Iron Fang Pack, once proud and strong, had been erased from the face of the earth. Their blood soaked the soil, their howls silenced forever. Derek’s rage had not been mercy; it was retribution.

He moved through the carnage like a walking storm, silent and merciless. His wolf stirred inside him, restless and wild. It wanted more, wanted her.

Elena.

Her name burned in his mind like a curse and a blessing all at once. Since the moment she vanished, a gnawing emptiness had consumed him. His wolf had paced endlessly, clawing at his sanity, urging him to find her. Now, he could feel her. Somewhere beyond this ruin, her scent clung faintly to the air, warm, soft, and maddeningly human.

He could sense her fear, her confusion, her pain. The bond between them pulsed like a tether, and every beat of her heart echoed faintly in his own chest. His wolf growled deep within, hungry and protective all at once.

Soon, he would have her back.

He approached slowly and there he was.

Magnus.

The traitor stood waiting, a dark silhouette outlined by the burning horizon. Around him were the remnants of his loyal guards, what little of his pack had survived the onslaught. They stood trembling, barely holding their ground. Even from afar, Derek could feel their fear. It rolled off them like a heavy mist.

Derek’s steps were steady, unhurried. His eyes locked on Magnus, who struggled to maintain composure.

“So,” Derek’s voice carried through the cold night, deep and commanding. “You’ve been busy.”

Magnus straightened his shoulders, though his breathing betrayed him. “You came. Good. I was beginning to think you would hide behind your pack.”

Derek stopped a few paces away, the faint curl of a smirk on his bloodstained lips. “Hide? You should know me better than that. I don’t hide. I hunt.”

Magnus’s jaw tightened. “You’ve destroyed my clan.”

“They stood in my way.” Derek’s tone was almost casual. “You should have known what that would cost them.”

Magnus’s hand twitched, claws half unsheathed. “You think this ends with me begging for mercy?”

Derek’s golden eyes narrowed. “No. It ends with you on your knees, just like every fool who has ever challenged me.”

The words hung between them like a death sentence. The air grew colder, heavier. The remaining guards shifted uneasily, glancing at their Alpha, uncertain whether to flee or fight.

Magnus clenched his fists. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? You think your strength makes you a god. But not this time. This time, I’ve been blessed with power even you cannot imagine.”

Derek chuckled, low and dark. “Blessed? You look cursed to me.”

For a moment, Magnus said nothing. Then, with a guttural snarl, he began to change.

His bones cracked, shifting beneath his skin. Muscles bulged, tearing through his clothes. His fur exploded outward, thick and coarse, brown as the earth. His eyes glowed red like burning coals. Claws extended from his fingers, long enough to rip through steel. When the transformation was complete, he stood towering on two legs, a monstrous figure of sinew and rage. His snout twisted into a grin, saliva dripping from jagged fangs.

The air pulsed with raw power. Even Derek felt it, a flicker of something unnatural coursing through Magnus’s aura. This was no ordinary transformation. The scent of dark magic clung to him like rot.

Magnus’s voice came out deeper, distorted, echoing with something otherworldly. “Do you see, Derek? The gift they gave me. The strength of ten Alphas. The curse of gods. With this, I will tear you apart and burn your legacy to ash.”

Derek didn’t flinch. He stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Is that your best?”

Magnus roared, the sound shaking the very air, and lunged forward.