Ajamu let the silence stretch, savoring every second of it like a slow burn. "How nice of you to join us," he called, voice carrying easily across the grounds. "And thank you for bringing Tade — saved me the trouble of grabbing Ige myself." He glanced past Bode toward the lines, then narrowed his eyes. His lips twitched as contempt and calculation warred. "Funny… I thought you'd have maybe ten, twenty men at most. Not a small army."
His gaze flicked back to Ore, hanging limp from his hand. The moonlight painted her pale throat in silver. A slow smile split Ajamu's face. "If she dies with that many wolves watching… well. That would be a tragedy for everyone."
Ronke stepped forward from the shadows, silk whispering around her like a living thing. "Bring them in," she said, calm and soft as a serpent. "We can discuss terms." Her smile was an offered blade.
Bode's jaw worked. He looked down at the bracelet Asha had bound to his wrist; the metal hummed faintly against his skin. Whatever tremor had rimed his anger steadied at the touch. He inhaled once, slow, and the red flare in his eyes cooled to embers. He turned to Tade and Ige. Tade gave the brief nod—an agreement, not a surrender. Ige's face was unreadable; the old elder's hand found the table, fingers tapping a steady rhythm that betrayed the calculating mind beneath.
Bode spoke into the quiet more for the wolves than for the men on the balcony. The link was subtle—no words, just a chord of will that ran through the convoy and threaded into those who had been turned by his hand. Be ready. Hold until my mark. The wave of shared purpose rolled through the gathered ranks; boots shifted, breath cooled, a thousand muscles tightened like drawn wire. They understood.
Ige stepped forward and pressed his palm to the carved door. The wood answered with a faint, humming resistance, like a sleeping animal shifting beneath a blanket. He felt it in his bones — wards, sigils tucked into the frame, the kind that yanked at a man's spirit and made movement heavy. He pulled back a fraction and looked up at the balcony again, eyes narrowed, reading the posture of Ajamu and Ronke as if watching for the first twitch of a trap.
They all stood there—three packs within a breath of one another—waiting. The mansion exhaled around them: incense and iron, old oil and the subtle sting of wolfsbane. Above, Ore's form swayed with Ajamu's grip. Down below, the assembled wolves watched the balcony as if some unseen countdown had begun.
Tolu's eyelids trembled and opened to a world that smelled of iron and powder and old fear. The bulb above the cell stuttered, throwing sickly light over the damp stone; his throat scraped with dryness, and the chains at his wrists bit into his skin. For a moment he didn't know where he was. Then memory spilled back like cold water — the forest, the ambush, the syringe, Ore's limp shape.
Pain flared across his chest, sharp and raw, and with it came something else: a pressure behind his eyes, an ancient drumbeat that seemed to pound against the inside of his skull. The blue in his irises was not the simple new-level blue it had been nights ago. It burned now, fierce and bright, a living thing. It was not merely sight — it was a tide.
He tried to swallow. The chains clanked as he tugged. They were iron, heavy, bolted into the floor. He could feel the wolfsbane crawling in his blood, slowing him, trying to drag him under. The sedative hissed at the edge of his mind. He roared against it — not with voice but from somewhere deeper — and something answered.
A pressure, a memory not his, rolled through his veins: muscle and speed and a hunger older than the town. The ancient blood that had lain quiet beneath seal and custom awoke, and with it a knowledge of brutal motion. He did not plan. He reacted.
Tolu's hands convulsed. The chains groaned. Small sparks — quick, hot flashes like lightning under skin — crawled along his arms. The guards outside laughed low and careless, footsteps approaching to check on their prize. One of them loosened his grip on the bolt to twist the key.
That was the mistake.
When the bolt caught and the lock shivered, Tolu's body changed fast enough that the guards did not have a single clear thought left. Bone popped and reknit with a hundred small, furious snaps; muscle thickened; teeth whitened into blades. He was wolf in the space it takes to blink — but not the clumsy, raw pup a newborn becomes. He was larger, older-feeling, bone and force. Indigo had fed to blue; this was something older than the color wheel, older than the seals and the spells. It moved like cold thunder.
The first guard never knew the shape that struck him. A blue flare filled the cell as jaws closed, a sickening wet sound, a single broken cry swallowed in the stone. Blood painted the floor in quick arcs. The second guard slammed the door shut to buy time. He reached for a pistol. The beast that had once been Tolu reared and slammed his body forward; the wood splintered under the impact. The weapon clattered away.
---
Inside the mansion, the air felt dense, thick with a quiet hum of power.
Bode and Tade stood before Ronke, their eyes fixed on her as she smiled faintly.
"Just a vial of your blood," she said softly, her fingers tracing invisible runes over the table.
"For your daughter. You want her alive, don't you?"
Tade's brows furrowed. "What for?"
Ronke tilted her head, her eyes glimmering like a predator's in candlelight.
"To uncover something buried in the tombs. The blood of the alphas can awaken a power that multiplies your strength tenfold."
Her tone was calm, but her words carried the seductive weight of temptation.
Bode exchanged a glance with Tade — neither trusted her.
He said coldly, "And we should just take your word for it?"
Ronke smiled, her voice dripping with confidence.
"You both know the laws. I am bound by the old ones. If I meant you harm, I would not need this much effort."
She gestured to the two calabashes resting on the table, filled halfway with clear water. "Your blood will reveal truth — or power. Either way, destiny will decide."
Silence lingered. Then Bode exhaled, his patience thin.
"Fine. Let's end this."
He raised his wrist, dragging a claw across it. Blood flowed dark and steady into the first calabash. Tade followed, slicing his arm as crimson streams mixed with the rippling surface. The moment the last drop fell, the wounds sealed themselves — a faint red light pulsing in the bowls.
Ronke's lips curved upward. "Perfect."
She lifted both calabashes, turning toward the inner chamber.
On the balcony above, Ajamu still held Ore, her limp body hanging from his hand. He laughed mockingly, his voice echoing through the hall.
"I've been waiting. My arms are getting tired, Bode."
Bode's eyes flared red as he took a single step forward. The floor cracked beneath his boot.
In an instant, he vanished, reappearing at the foot of the stairs as Ore's body fell. He caught her before she hit the ground, lowering her gently as he checked her pulse — still alive.
Behind him, Tade moved, locking eyes with Ige outside the barrier, giving a firm nod.
Without a word, Bode jumped onto the railing, his eyes glowing bright crimson.
Just as he leapt, Tade grabbed Ajamu, using the motion to pull them both through the barrier.
Ajamu gasped. How…?
He hadn't expected the old magic to let them through — not realizing Ronke herself had allowed it.
They landed hard. Bode dropped Ore safely behind him and turned back to Ajamu, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground.
"You want to know a secret?" Bode's voice was low, dangerous.
"The bigger your pack… the stronger you are."
Ajamu's feet kicked helplessly. He could feel the crushing force of Bode's grip, his lungs screaming for air. He tried to shift, to call his wolf, but the primal terror in his blood chained it down. His body refused to answer.
Bode's muscles tightened as his form began to shift — his body growing, veins bulging, skin rippling with raw energy. In seconds he stood a seven-foot hybrid, his face contorted with fury.
And then —
A roar shook the mansion.
From the shattered hallway burst a massive wolf with burning blue eyes — Tolu.
He was drenched in blood, his fur darkened, eyes blazing with unrestrained ancient power. He had slaughtered his way through the guards, and the entire barrier pulsed as if reacting to his presence.
"Tolu…?" Bode muttered, stunned.
Ajamu's wolves, sensing the intruder, turned and charged — but Tolu tore through them like paper, his claws leaving trails of glowing blue light.
Then he slammed full force into the barrier.
The first impact cracked it.
The second made the mansion tremble.
By the third, with a deafening roar and a burst of light — it shattered.
Outside, every wolf felt the surge.
Inside, Ronke screamed — blood spilling from her mouth as she staggered. The destruction of the barrier severed her link to the spell, the backlash hitting her directly.
Ajamu turned toward the balcony, his face pale with fear, but before he could even react, Tolu leapt through the dust and smoke — jaws open, eyes glowing like molten ice.
One bite.
Ajamu's scream never left his throat. His head was torn clean from his shoulders, blood splattering the floor as Tolu landed, his massive frame panting with rage.
He turned, his glowing eyes locking on Bode and Ore.
For a moment, no one moved.
Bode slowly released the lifeless body of Ajamu, watching it fall with a thud. His crimson eyes met Tolu's blazing blue — two forces of nature staring at each other.
Outside, the wolves howled in unison — a sound that echoed through the night, announcing the fall of an alpha.
Tolu stood over Ajamu's corpse, chest heaving. The glow in his blue eyes flickered violently — unstable, shifting like a storm caught between rage and pain.
Then the change began.
At first, it was the sound — the wet crack of bones grinding against each other, muscle cords thickening, ribs expanding. His claws dug trenches into the marble floor as his spine arched and stretched, growing longer. His breath came out in heavy bursts, each one steaming with raw energy.
The blue light in his eyes began to bleed into crimson.
Veins bulged beneath his fur as the transformation surged beyond control.
Every pulse of his heart was a thunderclap, and the air around him trembled.
Bode instinctively stepped back, shielding Ore with one arm. Even he could feel the sheer pressure radiating off Tolu — something ancient, wild, and unbound.
The wolves outside whimpered, their instincts screaming submission.
Tolu threw his head back and howled — a deep, guttural sound that seemed to tear through the sky itself. It wasn't a call; it was a declaration. A warning.
Windows shattered, the mansion walls cracked, and every creature within miles felt it in their bones.
When the echo finally died, Tolu's gaze snapped downward — red, feral, and no longer human in thought.
Before Bode or Tade could move, Tolu turned sharply and bolted, his massive frame blurring as he tore through the ruined mansion and vanished into the dark forest.
The only thing left behind was the trembling silence and the faint metallic scent of blood and ash.