Chapter 290 - 24: The Horn of Defeat

The sound of the horn was little more than a whistle, yet its impact was devastating, to say the least.

It came from an instrument carved from the bone of a dead witch and steeped in rare wolfsbane. When Garron pressed his lips to it, the sound did not travel through the air; it struck directly at the base of the skull.

It was a shrill, aggressive cry—a piercing, high-pitched wail that made every nerve in a wolf’s head vibrate painfully.

Ramon fell to his knees, clutching his head with both hands as blood trickled from his ear canals. Sonia screamed and slid from her mount; the panicked animal galloped off down the road. Henrik crashed heavily to the ground, mouth agape, hands pressed against his ears, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Dane staggered, his knees buckling under a sudden wave of nausea. He tried to force himself to shift.

It was no use. The sound stole his breath and locked his jaw. His ribs burned, as if someone were stomping on his chest to force the air out.

"Dane..." Henrik managed to gasp, lying in the dust with saliva dribbling from his lips. "I can’t... it feels like my head is going to explode..."

Garron lowered the horn. He stepped from the verge onto the road, the sound of his boots crunching on the ground. Behind him, twelve men emerged from the woods.

"Stop using that damned horn and fight like a man," Dane spat. He wiped away the trail of blood running from his ear onto his shoulder and painfully straightened up, standing unsteadily before Destiny.

Garron paid no heed to Dane’s demand. "We didn’t come here to fight."

"Then tell us what you want and get out of our way so we can rejoin our pack," Ramon called out from the ground. He propped himself up on one elbow, spitting out the blood filling his mouth.

"Your path is of no concern to us, Ramon," Garron said. His voice was dry and weary, devoid of energy or anger. He pointed a grimy finger past Dane, straight at Destiny. "We came for the girl. And for the stone she’s hiding." Destiny stepped back, her fingers clutching her tunic. Beneath the fabric, the stone burned and vibrated against her collarbone.

"Leave her alone," Marcus gasped from the back of the cart. He slid over the side, landed clumsily in the mud, and couldn’t get back to his feet. He crawled forward on all fours. "She has nothing to do with you."

"She carries the Heartstone," Garron said, taking another step forward. "We’ve been hunting it for seven years—ever since it woke up. Our children are born sick and die before they can even take a breath in their wolf forms. Our elders get stuck halfway through their transformation, until their bones rot inside them. This curse is killing us."

Dane stepped into Garron’s path. "And what does she have to do with your sick?"

"The stone alone isn’t enough," Garron said, his gaze fixed on Destiny. "It is merely one of many ingredients needed to break the curse of the Hollow Death." "We need the heart of the person who woke it. We’ll take her to the cairn, cut open her chest, and end the curse before the next full moon."

Destiny froze, her face drained of color, as she backed away against the side of the cart.

"No!" Dane lunged forward.

Stripped of his wolf strength, he was nothing more than an exhausted man in the mud. Garron grabbed him by the collar, drove a brutal knee into his ribs, and flung him sideways onto the ground.

Two of Garron’s men immediately stepped in, pinning Dane down by crushing his chest and arm beneath their heavy boots.

Garron approached Destiny, reached out, and grabbed the leather cord around her neck. He snapped it with a sharp tug and seized the stone. Destiny screamed and clawed at her attacker’s face, leaving red welts on his cheek.

Garron didn’t even flinch. He grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back, and dragged her toward the edge of the forest. His men fell in behind him, their knives still in hand.

"Let her go! Take me instead!" Marcus shouted, clutching at Garron’s boot as he crawled through the dust.

Garron kicked him off, sending the old wolf sprawling to the ground, and continued on his way.

"Help!" Destiny cried, her voice breaking, as they dragged her toward the thicket. "Someone help me!"

Dane tried to push away the boots crushing his chest, but his arms were trembling too violently. He watched them disappear into the dense pines. Destiny’s voice gradually faded until silence settled over the woods once more.

The sound of the horn had ceased, but everyone’s ears were still ringing. Ramon pulled himself up and wiped the blood running down his neck with his sleeve. Sonia was already on her feet, panting and disheveled, jogging down the road to catch her horse.

"This is your fault!" Marcus shouted, his voice shaking as he sat in the mud, glaring at Dane. "You were the one who took her under your protection! You used her to defy Vance, you put her in danger, and when those guys showed up, you just stood there and let them take my daughter!"

"Watch your mouth!" Sonia retorted, her hands trembling as she tugged at her horse’s reins. "Your daughter led those sickos right to us! My son nearly died in the arena for her, and now you’re yelling at us because she was hiding a dangerous artifact?"

"She wouldn’t even be here if your son hadn’t offered to take her away from our protection in the first place!" Marcus said, wiping his face.

"Quiet, both of you," Ramon said. He looked exhausted. He glanced at Marcus, then turned to his family. "The girl is gone. We’re going back to our pack and leaving them behind. It’s none of our business."

"I’m not going back," Dane said.

He stood by the cart, his clothes dirty and his hands dripping with blood. He stared straight ahead, toward the broken branches where they had taken Destiny.

Ramon turned around. "Dane. Get on your horse. We’re going home."

"No," Dane said. He looked his father straight in the eye. "Go back if you want. I’m going to get her."

Sonia stepped between them. "Dane, stop talking like that. They have those bone horns. They’ll kill you before you even find their camp."

"I don’t care," Dane replied.

Ramon took a step toward his son, his voice dropping to a deeper register. "I’m still the most powerful Alpha here, Dane. You’ll do as I say."

Dane didn’t back down. He stood his ground before his father, watching the blood on Ramon’s collar.

"You were the Alpha at Silvercrest, too," Dane said quietly. "And you just stood there while Vance insulted us. Now you’re ready to turn tail and let them murder a girl who shed her blood for our family. You’re afraid, Dad. I’m not."

Ramon opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. His shoulders slumped slightly, his jaw set tight as he looked at his son. He gave no further orders. Henrik approached Dane, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He drew his hunting knife from his belt and held it ready.

"I’m coming with you," Henrik said.

Hannah brought her horse up beside them, her gaze fixed on the dark trees. "If those people think they can slit her throat on a rock, they’re mistaken. I won’t let them."

"We have two days left until the full moon," Dane said. He bent down to pick up a scrap of white fabric—torn from Destiny’s shirt—that had snagged on a thorn bush. He held it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket.

He turned toward the dark pine forest.

"Let’s go."