Page 47 of Talk Howly to Me

Minutes later, they crested a ridge and saw the battle spread out below them. The sight that greeted them made Ronan's wolf snarl with rage. Fifteen of his pack enforcers and ten additional pack members were locked in vicious combat with what had to be thirty rogue wolves.

Bodies writhed and clashed in the moonlit clearing, the sounds of snarling, snapping teeth, and pained yelps filling the air. Blood already stained the forest floor, and Ronan could see several of his wolves were injured but still fighting with the fierce loyalty that made him proud to lead them.

Without hesitation, Kozue's wolf launched himself into the fray, his powerful jaws clamping down on the throat of a grey rogue that had cornered one of their younger enforcers. The rogue went down with a gurgling whine, and Kozue immediately spun to face the next threat.

Ronan's wolf surveyed the chaos for exactly three seconds, his Alpha instincts cataloging threats and tactical positions. His gaze swept the perimeter of the battle, and there—standing in the shadows beneath a cluster of pine trees—he spotted a familiar figure.

Darius Kade.

Even in human form, the rival Alpha was unmistakable. Tall and imposing, with auburn hair that caught the moonlight and ice-blue eyes that watched the carnage with cold satisfaction. He stood with his arms crossed, observing the battle like a general reviewing his troops' performance.

The sight of the man who'd most certainly murdered his family sent a wave of pure fury through Ronan's wolf. Twelve years of patient control threatened to shatter as memories of that terrible night crashed over him—his parents' broken bodies, his younger brother Davis calling his name with his dying breath, the smell of smoke and blood that had haunted his dreams ever since.

Finally, his wolf growled. Finally, we can end this.

But before Ronan could charge toward his enemy, three massive rogues converged on him from different angles. His attention snapped back to immediate survival as they attacked in perfect coordination, clearly following orders to neutralize the Alpha first.

The largest rogue—a scarred beast with yellow eyes—lunged for his throat while the other two flanked him from either side. Ronan's wolf twisted away from the killing bite, but powerful jaws clamped down on his shoulder, sending spikes of pain through his body. He lost sight of Darius as the three rogues pressed their advantage, working together to bring him down. One rogue's claws raked across his ribs while another tried to hamstring him from behind.

Not like this, Ronan's wolf snarled, fighting with desperate fury. I won't fall the same way my father did.

Just as the largest rogue prepared to deliver a crushing bite to his spine, Kozue's wolf slammed into the attacker with the force of a freight train. The two wolves went down in a tangle of fur and teeth, rolling across the forest floor as they fought for dominance. Freed from one opponent, Ronan's wolf spun to face the remaining two rogues.

Fighting beside Kozue felt as natural as breathing—they'd trained together for decades, sparred countless times, saved each other's lives more than once. Their movements flowed together like a deadly dance as they systematically dismantled their attackers. Kozue's wolf went for the throat while Ronan's wolf crushed the spine of the second rogue. Within moments, all three rogues lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground.

That's what happens when you mess with the Hale pack, Ronan's wolf thought with savage satisfaction.

But even as they turned to help their pack members finish off the remaining rogues, Ronan's thoughts kept drifting back to the lodge. Through the completed mate bond, he could feel Sloane's fierce determination and razor-sharp focus. She wasn't cowering in fear—she was preparing for battle, ready to defend their home and their people with the same intensity that drove him and Kozue.

She's not just our mate, he realized with a surge of fierce pride. She's claimed this pack as her own. She'll fight for Hale Lodge just as hard as we will.

The knowledge that Sloane had found her place among them, that she'd chosen to stay and protect rather than run, filled Ronan with a strength he'd never felt before. She wasn't just something to protect—she was a warrior who would stand with them no matter what came next.

NINETEEN

SLOANE

Sloane rushed through the corridors of Hale Lodge in one of Ronan's oversized black t-shirts and her leggings, the fabric still carrying his cedar and spice scent that somehow made her feel both comforted and desperate to get back to him. The lodge's warm lighting cast dancing shadows as she and Emerson moved with efficiency, knocking on guest room doors and guiding sleepy, confused visitors toward the lobby.

"Fire drill, everyone," Emerson announced with her trademark cheerful authority as she herded a family of four toward the front entrance. "I know it's late, but we conduct random safety drills to ensure everyone knows the evacuation procedures."

An elderly gentleman in a bathrobe squinted at them suspiciously. "A fire drill at eleven-thirty at night?"

"Emergencies don't follow convenient schedules, Mr. Patterson," Sloane replied smoothly, surprised by how naturally the lie came. "The randomness helps simulate what would actually happen during a real emergency."

Through the completed bond, she could feel Ronan and Kozue's fierce determination as they fought at the perimeter, their emotions blazing with protective fury. The sensation was both reassuring and terrifying—knowing they were alive but sensing the danger they faced made her chest tight with anxiety.

Within fifteen minutes, they'd successfully evacuated all thirty-seven guests from the lodge. The group moved through the moonlit forest along a well-worn path that led to the emergency packhouse—a large, rustic building that most guests assumed was simply additional lodge facilities.

"This is quite the elaborate setup for a drill," commented a woman clutching her teenage daughter's hand.

"We take safety very seriously here at Hale Lodge," Emerson responded without missing a beat. "Better to be overprepared than caught off guard."

The packhouse was spacious and comfortable, designed specifically for situations like this. Soft lighting illuminated cozy seating areas and a small kitchenette stocked with emergency supplies. Most guests settled in with resigned acceptance, some even commenting on how impressed they were with the lodge's thoroughness.

Once everyone was safely inside and Emerson had distributed blankets and hot tea, Sloane pulled her aside near the entrance. Tasha sat nearby on a cushioned bench, her bruised face a stark reminder of the danger that had followed Sloane to this sanctuary.

"I need to go help Ronan and Kozue at the perimeter," Sloane said quietly, her voice calm despite the urgency thrumming through her veins.