The foxfire orbs burned blue-green, drifting through the cedar trunks like wandering souls.

  Hunters shouted in confusion as the floating lights split and scattered, weaving through trees and spreading across the damp landscape. One sphere darted sharply left; another flared bright near a ravine’s edge, drawing curses and angry shouts when the deception worked.

  Maxx did not look back to admire the chaos. He ran.

  Sachi kept pace beside him, breath controlled, lantern extinguished, her hand brushing bark as she tried to navigate by memory rather than sight.

  Eventually, the hunters stopped chasing the lights. They had adapted to the foxfire’s distractions and no longer pursued. Their delayed progress served as a whetstone, sharpening their patience into a weapon and strengthening their resolve.

  The foxfire drifted wider, thinned, then faded completely.

  Maxx moved through the shadows of cedar and pine trees with the instincts of a creature who had lived long enough to know that even the smallest delay could avert disaster. He could excuse himself for miscalculating the borrowed time the spheres afforded his party, but the forest would not forgive footprints. It kept them the way water kept blood—diluted but never entirely erased.

  Sachi walked behind him, quiet as the fox that ghosted them along the brush line. The kitsune’s eyes gleamed like embers buried under ash when they caught moonlight. He was grateful for the creature’s company and the help it had afforded them. He never relied on luck to survive, but if it favored them tonight, he would accept any additional benefit the spirits or unseen forces offered.

  The hidden path narrowed into a shallow ravine, where the rocks rose like ribs and moss-covered stones lined both sides. The clean, neutral scent of water drifted through the air, carrying the slightest odor of decaying leaves and algae. It was a clever route, since the rock didn’t retain scent well and the stream would carry away what little remained.

  Sachi had led them here. She knew the land, which meant someone else could too.

  As they navigated the shallow ravine, the faint sound of cloth brushing against bark made Maxx halt. The creek’s babbling muffled the sound of shifting weight in the undergrowth as someone tried to hide their presence. It wasn’t what he heard that concerned him, but what he didn’t hear: breathing and a heartbeat.

  A vampire was near, and closer than he preferred.

  Sachi halted behind him a moment later, her breath catching.

  Maxx tilted his head, listening. Four? No, five human heartbeats, fast and uneven. The sixth was different—too steady, too calm to be human. More like a wolf’s.

  The Black Wolf inside tried to press forward, pricking his skin and making his nostrils flare. A familiar tension coiled through his spine as primitive rage, eager to rise, stirred at the edge of his thoughts like a beast scenting blood.

  Not here, he told himself. Not yet.

  “Stay behind me,” he said, reaching behind him and clasping Sachi’s hand. Her gentle touch and the cool water swirling at his feet helped calm and center him.

  “I am already behind you,” she said, a dry edge in her voice. It sounded as if the little fear she harbored was waning, and that could be dangerous. Fear made people unpredictable. Faith did not.

  Up ahead, the fox paused, ears lifting. Its tail twitched once, and its eyes fixed on a point above the ravine wall.

  Maxx moved without a sound and pressed his palm to the stone. Cold seeped into his skin. He let his senses extend outward, tasting the world through vibration and scent.

  The absence of movement was not reassuring. The surrounding air carried a subtle aroma of aged wine, tinged with a faint hint of decay. Vampire elegance trying to mask itself. Beneath it lay the smell of hunters—wet leather, sweat, and iron.

  The ravine darkened suddenly, as if a cloud had swallowed the moon. Maxx looked up. A shape dropped from the rim. It landed between Maxx and the narrow stretch ahead with the weightless grace of a predator that did not need bones to absorb impact. The figure straightened, standing tall and lean, wrapped in travel robes dark as ink.

  “You run beautifully,” the vampire said in Portuguese so clean it sounded rehearsed. He smiled with the look of someone who had all the time in the world.

  Maxx didn’t answer. He shifted his position, planting his feet and angling his shoulders into a warrior’s stance.

  Two men emerged from the shadows above the ravine, crossbows cradled, their bolts tipped with a dull shine Maxx did not need to see to recognize. The scent of silver burned his nostrils.

  And then, to Maxx’s left, the wolf appeared in human form, his hair damp from the mist. A young man. Barely more than a boy by the look of him. Lean, wiry, cheekbones sharp with youth, eyes too bright with adrenaline and the intoxication of being part of something “important.” He grinned like a youngster who had stolen a blade and thought himself a soldier.

  “DeSilva,” the young werewolf said, voice rough with excitement. “It’s true. You’re actually here.”

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  Maxx’s eyes shifted to him. The young man wore no signet of a mature pack, no insignia of rank. An ambitious cub chasing a king’s son and glory.

  “Ah. You see, Maxx?” the Nightborn said, his smile widening. “Even here, you are a legend.”

  “Legends die,” Maxx replied, his voice low and edged with contempt.

  The vampire’s eyes glittered. “Yes. And that is why I am here.”

  A sudden movement behind Maxx caused his head to snap around.

  Sachi bolted sideways, her hand reaching to retrieve something from her sleeve—a paper charm folded into a tight square, inked with strokes he didn’t understand but had learned to respect.

  Maxx opened his mouth to warn her, but it was too late.

  The young wolf lunged with sudden speed, far faster than the hunters, and in a flash, he was behind Sachi. His arm hooked around her waist, yanking her back hard enough to steal her breath. An iron blade flashed as he pressed it to her throat.

  Sachi’s charm fluttered from her fingers and landed on the stone like a fallen leaf. Her eyes met Maxx’s over the young wolf’s arm, wide but not panicked.

  “And now we arrive at the interesting choice,” the vampire said, his voice smooth as silk.

  Maxx’s muscles tensed, yet he remained still.

  “Surrender. Come quietly,” the vampire said, relishing each word. “I promise she will live.”

  Maxx knew vampires. They used promises the way men used ropes. Tightening them until breath became a favor.

  “If you refuse,” the vampire went on, “our eager young friend will earn his fame. He will spill her blood, and you will carry that stain into whatever century you crawl into next.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Maxx said, his eyes fixed on the youthful wolf.

  The boy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

  “I do,” he said, his grin trembling. “They said… they said you were the Black Wolf. The king’s son. If I bring you in—if I help—”

  “You’ll earn fame,” Maxx finished, voice flat.

  “No,” the boy’s eyes flashed. “Honor.”

  Maxx’s mouth tightened. “They are not the same.”

  “Don’t waste your wisdom on children, DeSilva,” the vampire chuckled. “Decide.”

  His mind ran through the probabilities.

  He could surrender, step forward, and let the hunters take him. The silver bolts would bite, and they would bind and drag him back to Europe in chains of moon-silver like an animal. The packs there would tear him apart to make a point. Or worse, use him.

  This course might save Sachi’s life, or it might simply make her death slower.

  If he engaged in a fight, Sachi could die instantly. The young wolf’s blade would land a cut, and the vampire would retaliate.

  The clarity of Maxx’s vision intensified, making every detail excruciating. The boy’s knuckles gleamed with moisture, Sachi’s breath hitched, and the vampire tilted its head, as if savoring Maxx’s hesitation like a pleasing melody.

  The Black Wolf stirred within him, reminiscent of an ancient deity awakening in a decaying temple.

  No bargains. No mercy. No delays, it whispered.

  Maxx felt the world narrow to a single point. He turned his gaze toward Sachi. She offered a barely noticeable shake of her head, so slight it could have been mistaken for a gust of wind.

  With her golden eyes fixed on Sachi, Hikari stood beside him on the bank, her tails stiff and ready, as if awaiting the opportune moment to strike.

  Maxx’s chest tightened until it hurt. He let out a deep sigh, bowing his head, allowing his shoulders to slump.

  “No,” Sachi’s voice carried across the distance. “Do not surrender.”

  He didn’t speak. He moved forward and down, his body dropping into a crouch, cloak flaring. At the same instant, the fox’s eyes ignited with blue-green light. Foxfire bloomed across the ravine, swirling in erratic spirals. The orbs cast a flickering light that distorted distance, making shadows leap and edges fade. The hunters swore, their crossbows jerking as the sudden illumination stole their aim.

  The vampire’s smile vanished. “Now,” he yelled to his companions.

  Maxx launched himself forward, feeling the rush of air as a silver bolt hissed past his cheek. A second grazed his shoulder from behind, burning with the intensity of ice shoved into flesh. He tossed aside the pain and focused on the fight.

  The wolf's presence grew stronger, heightening his speed and senses while the muscles beneath his skin thickened. He hadn’t fully transformed yet. He was becoming a blend of human and primal power.

  Maxx slammed into the nearest hunter with a shoulder, feeling the man’s ribs shatter beneath the impact. His target flew backward against a tall stone, breath exploding from him in a wet gasp. He crumpled to the ground and lay still, no longer a threat.

  In a blur too swift for the human eye to follow, Maxx closed the gap to his next victim. He seized the second hunter’s crossbow and twisted, the wood cracking and splintering under the force of his grip. Pieces of the broken mechanism bit into the man’s fingers, and he began to scream, a sound that ended a split second later when Maxx drove his fist into the man’s throat, crushing cartilage and snapping his spine.

  A third hunter lunged forward, wielding a silver-tipped spear aimed at his midsection. Maxx stepped aside and grasped the shaft inches below the barbed tip. He deflected the thrust and yanked forward, dragging the man off balance. His nose exploded in a crimson shower as Maxx’s elbow connected. He hit the ground with a dull thud and remained motionless, choking on his own blood.

  Maxx shifted focus to Sachi’s captor. The young wolf squeezed tighter and pulled her backward. “Don’t move!” he commanded, voice trembling.

  “Let her go,” Maxx said, his attention fixed on the pair.

  The vampire took advantage of the moment to strike. A blast of cold air hit Maxx, causing him to turn and leap backward, narrowly dodging an attack aimed at his spine, a strike intended to incapacitate rather than kill. Razor-sharp claws tore into his ribs, ripping his skin and opening wounds that bled profusely.

  The vampire hissed, its eyes widening as Maxx seized its wrist while it tried to deliver a second blow. Bone cracked as he jerked the creature forward and drove his forehead into its nose with a sickening crunch. Stunned, the Nightborn staggered, his legs buckling and his head rolling sideways.

  Maxx used that split second to unleash the Black Wolf. The shift ripped through him — bones elongated, muscles tore and reformed, skin stretched, and dark fur erupted in a violent wave. His senses exploded outward—every scent a flame, every heartbeat a drum. The world around him sharpened with the clarity of a predator.

  He was no longer a man.

  He was the Black Wolf, a massive beast whose obsidian fur shimmered in the moonlight and eyes burned with the intensity of molten gold. His breath plumed white in the cold air as he bared his fangs and rose to his full, imposing height above the landscape.

  The vampire stumbled back, his composure breaking for the first time.

  Maxx lunged. His jaws clamped onto the vampire’s shoulder, tearing muscle from bone. The Nightborn’s unholy scream echoed through the gorge as the Black Wolf slammed him into the ravine wall. Stone splintered, and blood painted the ground in a gruesome display. He advanced on his prey, claws piercing the lead hunter’s chest and pinning him to the earth.

  The vampire tried to speak, but it was too late for any discussion or compromise.

  Maxx bit down on his throat, crushing it with the precision of an apex predator. Cartilage collapsed, bone snapped, and the vampire’s body convulsed as cold blood spilled across Maxx’s tongue like spoiled wine. His eyes went glassy, and his lips twitched soundlessly until the final death claimed him.