MAYA’S POV
By the fifth body, I stopped counting.
The first rogue lunged at us low and fast from the left flank, all snapping jaws and ferocity—the kind that didn’t think past its next bite.
Brett had intercepted before I could fully turn, his blade flashing once in the dim silver wash of moonlight before the wolf dropped with a strangled yelp.
The second had followed barely a minute later.
The third came from behind.
After that, they blurred together into a pattern I didn’t like.
Too frequent. Too coordinated.
Between the three of us, we took them all down, but it didn’t feel like a victory.
In the aftermath, I wiped the back of my hand across my shirt, smearing something dark I didn’t bother identifying. Turning in a slow circle, I scanned the tree line again, waiting for the next wave of attacks.
The neutral zone stretched around us in uneasy quiet, the kind that never truly meant peace.
