THALIA POV
Pain explodes through my chest before I even open my eyes.
I gasp and my eyes snap open. Wrong. Everything is wrong. Stone ceiling above me. Furs beneath me. Firelight dancing on cave walls.
And a monster watching me.
I scream.
He's massive—seven feet of pure muscle with silver-white hair and eyes that glow like molten gold. Those eyes narrow at my scream, and his lip curls back to show teeth too sharp to be human.
"Quiet," he growls. His voice rumbles like thunder. "You'll alert the territory predators."
My heart slams against my ribs. This isn't real. This can't be real. But the pain in my body is real. The cold stone beneath me is real. And the way this man-creature watches me like I'm prey—that's definitely real.
"Where am I?" My voice shakes. "What are you?"
"The Beastworld," he says flatly. "And you're going to die here."
The words hit me like ice water. "Die? No, I—I need to get home. There's been a mistake. I was—" The memory crashes back. Cassius. The betrayal. The rift machine tearing reality apart. "Oh God. This is real."
"Very real." The creature—man?—leans forward. "And very deadly. You're human. Fragile. Weak. Nothing in this world will let you survive."
Anger flares through my terror. I just survived being thrown into another dimension by the man I loved. I'm not going to die in a cave because some arrogant beast-man says so.
"Then why save me?" I snap. "If I'm so useless, why am I still alive?"
His glowing eyes widen slightly. Like he's surprised I talked back. "I don't know," he admits, and something about his confusion makes him seem less monstrous. More... confused. "My wolf wanted to kill you. You're an intruder. Unknown. Dangerous."
"I'm dangerous?" I would laugh if everything didn't hurt so much. "Look at me. I'm half-dead and you're—" I gesture at all seven feet of him. "You're a walking nightmare."
"Yet you're not crying anymore." He tilts his head, studying me like I'm a puzzle. "Most prey begs."
"I'm not prey." I try to sit up and immediately regret it. Pain shoots through my ribs. Through the bond—wait, what bond?—I feel his concern spike before he hides it.
"Don't move," he orders. "Your bones are still healing."
"Healing?" I look down and freeze. My arm—the one that was definitely broken—is straight. Bruised, yes, but straight. And on my collarbone, glowing through the thin shirt someone put me in, are silver marks. They look like tattoos of wolves running in a circle, but they pulse with their own light.
"What did you do to me?" I whisper.
"Saved your life." His voice is rough. "The soul bond gave you my healing abilities. You'd be dead otherwise."
Soul bond. The words trigger something in my psychology training. Attachment theory. Trauma bonding. But this feels different. Deeper. I can feel him at the edge of my mind—his worry, his confusion, his fierce protectiveness that he's trying hard to hide.
"You tied us together," I realize. "Without asking."
"You were dying." His eyes flash. "Would you rather I let you die?"
"I'd rather you gave me a choice!" But even as I say it, I know he's right. I was dying. I felt myself giving up. And somehow, through this impossible bond, he pulled me back.
"Well, you're alive now," he says. "Congratulations. Now you get to figure out how to survive."
"Survive what?"
Before he can answer, a howl splits the air outside the cave. It's not like any wolf I've ever heard. This sounds bigger. Hungrier. Closer.
The man-wolf's entire body goes rigid. "We need to move. Now."
"What was that?"
"Shadow pack." He's already grabbing supplies. "They hunt anything that enters their territory. And your scent—" He sniffs the air and curses. "Your human scent is like a beacon."
Terror locks my muscles. "I can't fight them. I can barely stand."
"Then I'll fight them." He throws a cloak at me. "But if they break through, run. The bond will guide you to safety."
"What bond will—"
Another howl. Closer. Multiple voices this time.
The man-wolf moves to the cave entrance, and his body ripples. I watch in horror and fascination as his muscles bulge, his face elongates, silver fur erupts across his skin. In three seconds, he's not a man anymore.
He's a wolf the size of a car.
He looks back at me with those glowing amber eyes, and through the bond, I feel his message clear as words: Stay alive. I didn't save you just to lose you now.
Then he leaps into the darkness.
Snarls and screams fill the night. I huddle against the cave wall, shaking. The silver marks on my collarbone burn hot, and through them, I feel every blow he takes, every enemy he tears apart.
He's fighting alone. Against a pack.
For me. A stranger. A useless human.
The bond thrums with his pain and fury. I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm a psychologist. I solve problems with my mind, not my fists. But what good is psychology against monsters?
Unless...
An idea sparks. Pack dynamics. Hierarchy. Behavior patterns. I might not be able to fight, but I can read patterns. Predict behavior. Find weaknesses.
The sounds outside shift. The man-wolf's pain spikes through the bond—he's losing.
I have to do something.
I stumble to the cave entrance, my broken body screaming in protest. Outside, in the red moonlight, I see him. The silver wolf surrounded by six black shadows, all teeth and claws and murder.
And I see the pattern. The way they attack. The hierarchy in how they move.
"ALPHA!" I scream into the night. "Left flank is weak! The smallest one—he's scared! Target him and the others will break formation!"
The silver wolf's head snaps toward me. Through the bond, I feel his shock—and understanding.
He lunges left. The smallest shadow wolf yelps and runs. Just like I predicted, two others break formation to chase their packmate.
Three against one now. Better odds.
But then I see movement behind the remaining wolves.
Something bigger is coming.
Something that makes the shadow wolves look like puppies.
It steps into the moonlight, and my blood turns to ice.
Red eyes. Black scales mixed with fur. Claws as long as my forearm.
Not a wolf.
A hybrid. Something that shouldn't exist.
And it's looking straight at me.
The silver wolf roars through the bond—pure terror and rage—because he knows what I know.
He can't save me from this.
The hybrid smiles, showing rows of needle teeth.
Then it charges.