I watched from the safety of the rooftop, taking in the scene below. The land behind Nicholas' house, usually quiet and empty, was now filled with rival pack's wolves. They were sprawling everywhere, every inch of the land. Howls filled up the bristly morning. My eyes lingered over the men that were all gathered and tried to hear what was being spoken.

Whenever I focused on a certain voice, I heard the low grunts of my own brother who was behind me, bleeding and trying to heal. But he couldn't heal unless the silver knife was out of his throat. I didn't intend to remove it unless this was all over.

My hands wrapped around the railing tight as my gaze fell over Nicholas' father. He was a tall, imposing man with features quite similar to his son. But there was a hardness in his eyes, a cold ruthlessness that was absent in Nicholas.

His movements were quick, precise. Even at this age, he had strength and everyone on the ground could see that. He was powerful. The sight of him sent chills down my spine. My breathing became ragged as I tried to assume what would happen. It was either his death or Nicholas'. There was no other middle ground and the two minute conversation between them confirmed that.

Neither of them were willing to back down.

They were both prepared to fight till the end, till death.

With a slow inhale, I forced myself to look away from the daunting sight of Nicholas' father. My gaze drifted across the land and fell over Nicholas. My heart swelled when I found him.

He wasn't in a bad shape, not anymore. But how could I be so sure?

I clung to the sight of him until he began shifting, until it began. When it did, I quickly leaned back and reached into the duffle bag.

My one hand went around a sleek bow and the other one around a set of silver arrows that I had used before, at the range. I could not rest alone in Sheryl's house while all of this was happening. There was always going to be a part of me that was going to be scared for Nicholas, no matter how strong or determined he was.

Maybe he could kill his father.

Maybe he could not.

There wasn't certainty and coming here was making sure there was.

I didn't want to loose him. The sole thought of it clawed at my heart. Intervening today was going to tip the scales to his favor, only if he needed it.

I remained seated on the rooftop, my bow drawn and the silver arrow positioned. The wall gave my elbow support as I placed my hand over it. Part of my left wrist was aching, strained after Gerald had twisted it a few minutes ago, but it wasn't going to hinder me. It could not. Not when there was so much at stake.

This wasn't about just saving him. It was about protecting our bond, our connection. I craved for someone my whole life and he came. I could not loose him.

The dull ache on my wrist subsided when my attention diverted to the men on the ground. From the rooftop, they appeared small, nothing in the vast land.

Nicholas didn't shift entirely, but he still did. Partly. His face had morphed into a wild wolf, and the rest of him, it was a mix of a man and a wolf. His shoulders and arms were broader, muscles bulging under his skin. His posture was hunched forward, like a predator ready to pounce on it's prey. His clothes were ripped in places where his form couldn't be contained. And his nails had lengthened into claws, sharp long claws.

My heart raced and I swallowed hard. I had seen his wolf before, but I hadn't seen this part of him, where he was a wolf and a man at the same time. There was something stronger about that form that made him invisible. The wolf's instincts mingled along with a man's mind—it was perfect and cunning.

My gaze moved along the crowd and over to his father, who had shifted, fully embracing his wolf form. He stood yards away from Nicholas and between his men. His fur was lighter than Nicholas's, but still black. His ears were perked, alert while his eyes wandered all over the crowd.

I leaned back, covering myself by the help of the wall. It contained the presence in the roof, but if anyone sniffed deep enough, they could find me and my brother, who was still groaning behind me.

"Wh—what are you doing?" He questioned, barely breathing. When I looked behind, I saw his hand fastened around the knife as if he was trying to pull it out, but there was no avail. He couldn't. Silver truly burned wolves.

I shot him a glare, silencing him instantly. "Stay quiet or you'll be hurting yourself."

My attention returned back on them. The other wolves began stepping away, spreading apart on the wide land and leaving the two wolves to duel. My heart raced like it never had. I raised my arm and pulled back on the arrow while my eyes stayed glued to the unfolding scene. It felt like my breath was trapped in my lungs.

Shutting my one eye, I kept my aim on the Nicholas' father. The silver, toxic tip of the arrow followed along with his every movement, even the smallest.

Everyone became silent and then it commenced.

The world stilled. Even the rustling lives and the cries of birds faded, replaced by mighty growls as they attacked on another. It began as a blur, two powerful forms lunging towards each other, their feral snarls echoing all across the town. They crashed with impact, snapping teeth and slashing claws. There wasn't much of a difference between the two of them.

After all, they came from the same bloodline. The raw strength was evident in both. It was like witnessing a reflection battling itself.

Their bodies twisted and turned, darting forward and backward with a speed that was hard to follow, but I still did. I didn't flinch or move the arrow away. It was aimed at his father, who did appear to be stronger than Nicholas, even when he was old.

He was more brutal, Nicholas wasn't. I wasn't sure if it was because of his past, of the fact that he once feared his father.

It could be.

I held my breath while watching them. Nicholas lunged, his claw aiming for his father's throat. But the older wolf was quick, moving aside at the last possible moment. Their deadly dance continued, fur and teeth and claws, a display of their primal selves.

Nicholas was the first one to get wounded when his father swiped his claws over his chest, creating a new mark on his body, as if the old ones weren't already enough. My heart tightened, my grip on the bowstring increasing. I wouldn't allow him to lose.

Despite the blow, Nicholas recovered quick and remained on his feet, still in his half-form. Faint blood dripped from his chest and it ached me to see that.

"Fight, Nicholas." I murmured under my breath, as if he could hear me, as if my voice could spur him on.

His father lunged again, his powerful claws aiming straight for Nicholas's throat. But he was quicker this time, dodging the attack and retaliating with a swift clawed swipe of his own.

The fog surrounding the town thickened and the clouds above became heavier as any minute now it was going to start raining. I bit the inside of my cheek tight. My fingers became stiff from the cold, but I still didn't move.

For a moment, they parted, both of them wounded in one way or other. The other wolves moved further back, away from the scene, but the rival pack wolves got closer to his father, almost as if they were going to tune in and help him kill his son.

That couldn't happen.

There weren't many pack wolves with Nicholas, only a few warriors and one of them being Malik. The ground was filled with his father's wolves. They were spread everywhere, watching every move.

I felt my brother stirring behind me, "April..." he croaked out, but I hushed him. I couldn't lose focus, not now.

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