Malric’s Death

Josh froze.

For a heartbeat, the forest was utterly still. No wind, no birdsong—just silence and the soft thudding of his pulse in his ears. Then it hit him again—faint, but unmistakable.

Lavender. Soap. Warm skin. Evelyn.

His pupils dilated. The world fell away, replaced by a single, overpowering instinct.

She's here.

Not weeks old. Not faded. Fresh.

He bolted.

Josh shifted mid-stride, clothes tearing as bone cracked and muscle surged beneath skin. Fur rippled out across his back, his hands becoming paws, his jaw elongating as the Alpha form overtook him.

He ran like something out of legend—an ancient, deadly force tearing through the underbrush. The scent grew clearer, curling between trees, marked by fear and struggle. She had been carried. Her scent was on leaves five feet off the ground. Over a shoulder. Not by choice.

Another scent clung to it.

Male. Werewolf. Older. Seasoned.

He pushed harder.

Trees blurred around him, streaks of green and brown. Every stride brought her scent sharper into focus. He leapt over rocks, tore through branches, skidded across moss-covered roots. His heart beat like a war drum in his chest.

Hold on, Evelyn. I'm coming.

Then, just ahead—smoke.

Josh dropped low, slowing only slightly as the scent burned his nose.

Wolfsbane.

He transformed back, staggering behind the cover of a tree. Smoke drifted through the clearing ahead, curling from iron bowls nestled in a ring of rocks. A tight formation—precise. He didn't need to get close to know what burned inside.

Wolfsbane. Old and potent. Enough to slow him—maybe worse.

Movement.

A man stepped forward from the edge of the firelight, bloodied and staggering, but standing tall. His frame was powerful, his shoulders broad beneath a worn leather jacket. A large scar slashed across the right side of his face, starting just below the temple and disappearing into his jawline. It pulled at the skin when he spoke, warping his expression into something perpetually grim.

Malric.

Josh knew that face. Everyone did.

A former rogue. Half-blood. Once hunted by his own kind, he'd vanished for years—until Clara found him. Rumors said she saved his life. Rumors said he owed her everything.

And now here he was. Guarding Evelyn.

Malric's lips curled into a grim smile.

"I figured you'd come," he rasped, voice like gravel.

Josh stepped forward, fists clenched. The wolfsbane smoke burned his throat. He could feel it already—muscles tightening, heart rate spiking.

"Where is she?" he growled.

Malric didn't answer. He reached into his coat, pulled out a second bowl filled with crushed wolfsbane, and dropped a lit match inside. Flames flared. The air thickened with poison.

Josh snarled, eyes flashing. "That won't stop me."

Malric shrugged. "It doesn't need to."

Then he charged.

Josh met him head-on.

Their bodies collided with bone-crunching force. Josh slammed a fist into Malric's jaw; Malric answered with a vicious elbow to Josh's ribs. They broke apart, circled each other like beasts, and crashed together again.

Fists. Claws. Blood.

Malric fought like a wolf possessed. Every blow he threw was sharpened by conviction. He wasn't trying to win—he was trying to stall.

Josh saw it. The deliberate positioning of the fire bowls. The way Malric fought near them. He was buying time.

But for what?

A silver blade flashed from Malric's belt. He slashed low, catching Josh's side. Pain tore through his ribs, hot and sharp. Josh grunted, twisted away, then spun back and landed a brutal punch across Malric's face.

The older werewolf staggered—but didn't fall.

Josh moved in again, ducked under the next swing, and tackled him to the ground. Dirt flew as they rolled through pine needles and roots, fists pummeling ribs and faces. Blood soaked into the forest floor. Neither relented.

The wolfsbane burned in their lungs.

But it was Malric who began to falter.

His breath turned ragged. His movements slowed. Sweat poured down his face.

He was affected more than Josh.

He's weaker. Half-blood. Even Clara's training couldn't make him immune to this.

Josh seized the advantage.

He caught Malric's arm mid-swing, twisted, and drove him back against a tree. Bark cracked. The knife clattered from his grip. Josh pressed in, claws to Malric's throat.

"Where. Is. She?"

Malric coughed, blood spattering his lips. He stared at Josh, eyes glassy but unyielding.

"She's safe," he whispered.

"Where?" Josh snarled, voice raw.

Malric's lips curved into a grim smile. "Far from monsters like you."

Josh's claws sank deeper.

"Last chance."

Malric met his gaze. He didn't speak. Didn't beg. He just closed his eyes, jaw set, accepting.

Josh drove his claws into his chest.

Malric arched, gasped—and fell still.

Josh stood over the body, chest heaving, blood dripping from his hands.

Malric's blood.

It stained the forest floor, dark and steaming against the roots. Josh could still hear the rasp of his final breath echoing in his ears. The scarred face—so distinct, so infamous—was slack now, lifeless. But even in death, Malric wore an expression of defiance.

He had taken the secret to the grave.

Josh knelt beside him, hand still trembling with rage. The wolfsbane in the air thickened, burning the inside of his lungs. His vision blurred at the edges. He forced himself to breathe shallow, but it was too late.

He stalled me long enough.

Josh's gaze drifted to the carefully arranged bowls, all still glowing orange with fire. The scent of Evelyn's trail still lingered faintly behind them—just beyond reach.

He tried to rise.

Pain exploded behind his eyes. His muscles locked.

He collapsed to one knee, growling, claws gouging into the dirt. The wolfsbane was inside him now, digging deeper with every breath. His Alpha blood gave him resistance—but not immunity. Not against this much.

Malric knew exactly how much to burn.

Josh's mind reeled.

Clara had planned this. She must have. Malric wouldn't act alone. Not like this. The man had been willing to die without hesitation. Not for money. Not for survival.

For loyalty.

For her.

Josh's lips curled in a bitter snarl.

What the hell are you doing, Clara?

For months, she'd played the perfect stepmother. Calm. Supportive. Almost too supportive. She never tried to talk Evelyn out of loving him—never warned her, never resisted the bond growing between them.

But now?

She'd sent a loyal, battle-hardened half-blood to kidnap Evelyn. To fight Josh. To die for her.

Why?

His head spun, a fresh wave of nausea rising as the smoke coiled tighter. He tried to shift into his wolf form again, but the process stalled—halfway, then snapped back painfully.

He wasn't going to make it through the fire line.

Not today.

Evelyn…

Her name felt like glass in his throat.

He'd been close. So close. Her scent was right there, still clinging to the bark of trees, to crushed leaves, to the very air. But she was gone. Carried deeper into whatever trap Clara had set.

Josh forced himself to his feet with a ragged breath. He glanced back at Malric's body—sprawled beneath a tree, surrounded by smoke and blood.

He wouldn't be the last.

Josh staggered into the trees, away from the burning wolfsbane, eyes narrow and sharp despite the haze. The pain would pass. The toxin would fade.

He would heal.

But the line had been crossed now. Clara had declared herself, even if she hadn't said the words.

She was no longer Evelyn's protector.

She was something else entirely.

---

He stopped several miles away, crouched by a riverbank. The cool air helped clear his head, and the water did little to soothe the burning in his chest, but it grounded him.

He could still feel her.

That connection. Faint but pulsing. He hadn't marked her yet—hadn't claimed her fully. But something deep inside him still reached for her. Searched for her. Called her name into the dark.

And something in him growled when there was no answer.

He would get her back.

He would tear apart every den, every lair, every forest and mountaintop until he found her. Clara might have her plans, her secrets, her loyal soldiers—but none of it mattered.

He was the Alpha.

And she had stolen what is his.