Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 450

ARIA

Through the link: thirty wolves updating their picture of the engagement, the witches' formation disrupted, the coordination of the attacking force losing its central command structure.

"They're fracturing," Louis said. "The western group is trying to pull back. They're coordinating a retreat toward the northern approach."

"Northern approach," I said. "Jason."

"I heard her," Jason said, through the walkie-talkie. The walkie-talkie had been crackling with the ambient noise of the engagement for the past several minutes and his voice came through sharp and clear and absolutely ready. "Signal?"

"Now," I said.

The arrows came.

Twelve archers. Four positions on the eastern ridge, three on the western outcrop, five in the elevated platforms I'd had Jason stage along the northern tree line interior two hours ago. They came down in coordinated waves because Jason had been my coordinator on the timing and Jason did not do imprecise timing.

The first wave hit the retreating western group.

The second wave hit the main force's right flank, which had been trying to consolidate.

The third wave — and this was the one that changed the mathematics of the engagement — hit the center of the northern approach where the largest concentration of the attacking force had bunched together, and it hit them from three angles simultaneously because Jason's positioning had been set up specifically to allow triangulated fire.

The attacking force stopped trying to retreat.

They stopped trying to advance.

They were, in a very short span of time, trying to survive a coordinated rain of arrows from elevated positions they hadn't known were there, while thirty coordinated wolves pressed them from two flanks and a Luna who wasn't supposed to exist in any form that matched what she was doing continued to operate from the center.

"We're winning," Sam said, through the link, with the specific quality of someone who'd been believing it was possible and was now confirming it was actual.

"Don't stop," Andrew said. "Tell me when we've won."

"Not yet," I said. "But—"

"I know," Priya said. "I feel it too."

Then Damon appeared.

He came through the eastern tree line with the quality of someone who'd been waiting for the right moment to enter dramatically and had decided the right moment was now. He was large — larger than I remembered, though I was aware that memory wasn't always reliable and also that circumstances affected perception. He was flanked by six wolves who were clearly not the main attack force — a personal guard, better trained, the specific quality of fighters who'd been deployed in the specific service of one person.

He walked forward until he was at the edge of the engagement zone, where both sides could see him, and he started talking.

"Aria," he said, and his voice had the quality of someone who'd prepared a speech. "This doesn't have to continue. You don't belong here. You know you don't belong here. You've been trying to fit into a pack that chose someone else, bonded to an Alpha who loves someone else, surrounded by people who will always see you as—"

I shot him.

Not minimum necessary. Not the split blast or the targeted disruption. A clean single directional blast, medium intensity, aimed at the ground directly in front of him in the specific spot that would flip him backward without doing lasting damage because I didn't actually want to kill Damon in front of my wolves on a night when I needed them functioning and not processing a moral event.

Damon went over backward.

Through the link: a collection of thirty wolves experiencing something that in humans would have been suppressed laughter but in wolves came through as a kind of communal satisfied vibration that I'd never felt before and was extremely useful.

"She shot him," Andrew said, and despite the wolf voice, the grin was completely audible.

"She absolutely shot him," Priya said.

"While he was talking," Sam said. "While he was mid-sentence."

"That is," Louis said, "very much something."

Damon got up.

He was, I had to give him credit, significantly faster at getting up than Alric Vesper had been, though to be fair Alric Vesper had had fewer arms at that point.

"Aria," Damon said, and his voice had lost the speech quality and acquired something rawer. "Come back. You were mine first. Whatever they've built here, whatever they've told you — you belong with me. Choose."

Through the link, the quality changed.

It was subtle — the communal satisfied vibration going still, the thirty wolves connected to the anchor all experiencing the same thing at the same time, which was the sudden awareness that this was not standard battle rhetoric. This was specifically aimed at their Luna. This was an ex-mate claiming the woman who was currently holding them all together.

The wolves didn't say anything.

I felt them not saying anything.

I felt them being very careful about not saying anything.

I felt the specific tension of thirty animals who were loyal to me and were also aware that this was a personal question that wasn't theirs to answer, that the relationship between their Luna and her previous life was something she'd never explicitly stated an opinion on, that they'd been following me for two hours and were about to find out whether following me had been the right call.

I looked at Damon.

"Nah," I said. "I'm good."

Through the link: the vibration came back. Bigger this time. The very specific communal energy of thirty wolves all experiencing the equivalent of their pack Luna choosing them so clearly and so casually that the choosing required only three words.

"I'm good," Andrew said, through the link, in a terrible impression of my voice.

"Same," Sam said.

"Same," Priya said.

"Same," Louis said.

"Can we please focus," I said.

"We are focused," Andrew said. "We're also very pleased about the three words. We can be both."

"Four words, actually," Sam said. "Nah, I'm good. Four."

"Four words," Andrew conceded.

"The engagement—" I started.

"Is currently slightly paused because all thirty of us are busy," Louis said.

"Being pleased," Priya said.

"The engagement," Santos said, out loud, with the patience of a man surrounded by wolves losing their composure in the middle of a combat operation, "has not paused. Andrew. Louis."

"Yes," they said simultaneously, and went back to work.

Damon had been watching this exchange with the expression of a man who'd expected a different response to his speech and was processing the gap between expectation and outcome. The six personal guard wolves were watching too, with the calculating quality of fighters reassessing a situation.