FLETCHER'S POV

I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder.

I snarled, ducking under a jagged hook that aimed for my throat.

I was surrounded. Four of Logan's dogs against one.

They moved like a pack, covering each other's weaknesses, exploiting every opening I gave them.

"Die, you Belmont trash!" one of them screamed, lunging at me.

I gutted him before he hit the ground, but two more took his place. A claw raked down my back, and I roared in frustration.

Where was Carlos?

My cousin should have finished with Logan by now. Unless—

I looked up just in time to see a blur of fur launch from the shadows.

Carlos, my cousin hit Logan with the force of a freight train, pinning the traitor to the dirt. His massive wolf form dwarfed Logan's, and for a moment, I thought we had him.

"Get him!" a rogue shouted. "Don't let him escape!"

"I need backup!" Carlos yelled, his voice straining as he grappled with Logan.

But Logan was fast. Too fast.

Something was wrong. Logan had always been strong, but this was different. His muscles bulged unnaturally, veins standing out like black rivers under his skin. Whatever enhancements the rogues were trafficking on Dartmoor, Logan was clearly sampling the product.

With a sickening crunch, Logan twisted, throwing Carlos off him like he weighed nothing. Logan was huge, fueled by whatever dark magic the rogues were using on this cursed island.

He slammed Carlos into a tree, dazing him.

The impact shook the ground. Bark exploded outward, and I heard ribs crack even from twenty feet away.

"No!" I screamed.

I tried to run to my cousin, to help him, to rip Logan's throat out with my teeth............

The image of the girl with the scar flashed in my mind. Her scent. It was strawberries and rain, and it was driving my wolf insane.

I'd never felt anything like it. The moment our eyes met, something fundamental had shifted in my universe. She wasn't just beautiful—though she was, scar and all. She was necessary........

My wolf clawed at my control, desperate to shift and tear apart anyone who stood between us and her. The rational part of my mind knew I needed to focus on the fight.

The primal part only knew she was getting farther away with every passing second.

I took a step toward Logan, blinded by rage.

A wooden club slammed into the back of my skull.

My vision swam. I stumbled, dropping one of my knives. Stars burst behind my eyes, and the world tilted sideways.

"Stay down," a voice hissed.

Another blow hit my ribs, stealing my breath. I hit the dirt hard, tasting earth and blood.

My wolf snarled, trying to force the shift, but my body wouldn't cooperate. The silver in my system fought against my healing, making everything sluggish.

Chains rattled. Before I could shift, before I could fight back, they were binding me. Heavy, rusted iron wrapped around my arms and legs, pinning me to the earth.

The metal stank of wolfsbane and old blood. These chains had bound others before me. How many had died in them?

I coughed, spitting blood. "You're dead! All of you are dead!"

Logan walked over. He shifted back to human form, naked and covered in blood. He looked down at me and laughed.

The sound grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Pathetic," he sneered. "The Belmont pack has grown weak."

He kicked me in the ribs, and I tasted copper. Something cracked inside my chest—another rib, maybe two.

"Let's go," Logan ordered his men. "The girl is waiting at Port Alvarez. I want to see what she can do."

My blood froze.

The casual way he said it—like she was a toy he'd picked up, an object to be examined—made rage flood through me so intensely I thought I'd black out.

"If you touch her..." I choked out, "I will kill you."

Logan didn't even look back. He just laughed again, signaling his men to retreat. They left us there, bleeding and broken in the dirt.

"I'll do more than touch her, Fletcher," he called over his shoulder. "She's pretty, even with that scar. Might keep her for myself. Or maybe I'll share her with the boys. Haven't decided yet."

His laughter echoed through the trees long after he disappeared.

Silence fell over the road.

Relief washed over me, followed instantly by a wave of pure, unadulterated hatred.

They hadn't finished us off. That was their mistake.

Logan thought we were trash. He thought we weren't a threat.

He was wrong.

"Fletcher."

A groan came from the bushes.

"Carlos," I coughed, forcing my body to heal. "You alive?"

"Barely."

My cousin dragged himself into the light. His fur was matted with blood, but his eyes were clear. He'd shifted back, and I could see the damage—deep gashes across his chest, his left arm hanging at an unnatural angle.

"He took her," I whispered, the words tearing at my throat.

"We'll get her back," Carlos grunted, testing his broken leg. It snapped back into place with a sickening pop. "Who was she?"

I closed my eyes, and her face appeared again. The fear in her eyes. The scar that only made her more beautiful. The pull I felt in my chest, like a gravity well.

Even now, miles away, I could feel her. A golden thread connecting us, vibrating with her terror.

"I don't know her name," I said, clutching the dirt. "But she is mine."

"Yours?" Carlos froze, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"Mate," I growled. "She is my fated mate."

Carlos's eyes widened. He knew what that meant.

Logan hadn't just kidnapped a random girl. He had declared war on an Alpha. He had stolen the one thing in this world I would burn everything to get back.

"He took her to Port Alvarez," I said, sitting up. The wounds on my back were already knitting together, the itch of supernatural healing driving me forward. "He has a harem there."

The thought of Logan touching her, looking at her... it made my vision turn red. My wolf howled inside me, demanding blood.

"We need a plan," Carlos said, his voice hard. "We can't just walk in there. He has an army."

"Then we get our own," I snapped. "We go back to Centro Villa. We gather the mercenaries. We gather the pack."

"It will be a bloodbath," Carlos warned.

I stood up, wiping the blood from my lip. I looked toward the north, toward Port Alvarez. Toward her.

The mate bond pulsed, and I could feel her fear like it was my own. She was terrified. Hurt. Alone.

I would tear the world apart to reach her.

"Good," I said.

I picked up my knives, the steel glinting in the moonlight. My hands were steady now, purpose replacing pain.

"He thinks he won today. He thinks he broke us."

I turned to Carlos, my wolf rising to the surface, making my eyes glow gold.

"Call the men. We aren't just going to rescue her."

I looked at the horizon, imagining Logan's head on a spike. Imagining his fortress burning, his army scattered, his empire reduced to ash.

"We are going to burn Port Alvarez to the ground."

FLETCHER'S POV

Snap....

My bones crunched back into place, a symphony of agony.

Each vertebra realigned with a wet pop that echoed through the empty road. Fire raced down my spine, and I bit back a scream. After centuries of shifting, you'd think I'd get used to the pain. I never did.

I gasped, clutching my side. The skin knit together, sealing the deep gash Logan's goon had left, but the phantom pain remained.

My fingers came away sticky with blood—some mine, some theirs. The silver traces in the wound made my skin itch and burn as my body fought to expel the foreign substance.

I stood up, naked and covered in dirt.

I didn't care about the nudity. Carlos and I had shifted in front of each other a thousand times. Modesty was for humans.

My clothes were scattered across the road in shredded pieces, soaked in blood and gore. I'd need new ones before we reached Centro Villa, but that was a problem for later.

"I don't know whether to be happy or offended," I rasped, spitting blood onto the sand. "He left us alive."

The words tasted bitter. Logan had humiliated us. Beaten us. And then walked away like we weren't even worth finishing off.

"I blame myself," Carlos whispered.

"He thinks we're a joke," I growled. "He thinks the Belmont pack is so weak he can just toy with us."

I spotted the girl's knapsack lying in the dirt.

She'd come here with nothing. Running from something. Looking for refuge.

And we'd failed her within minutes of her arrival.

I walked over and picked it up. I unzipped the side pocket and grabbed a water jug, draining it in seconds.

But it wasn't the water that satisfied me. It was the smell.

"I'm not going to be a toy for that fucker," Carlos said, his voice dropping an octave. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the bag.

"We need to raid Port Alvarez," I said, watching him closely. "We need to get her back before Logan touches her."

The thought of Logan's hands on her made my claws threaten to pop out.

I had my own share of women but the idea of a "forever" mate always terrified me.

But this... this was different. I felt like I was starving, and she was the only food in the world. Like I'd been walking through life partially blind and had suddenly seen color for the first time.

"I felt it too, Fletch," Carlos whispered.

"Felt what?" I asked, though I already knew.

Carlos looked up at me. His eyes were glowing gold.

"The pull," he said. "I hope she's my mate."

My stomach dropped.

"Your mate?" I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "She's my*l mate, Carlos. I felt it the second I saw her."

"So did I."

Three words. Three simple words that changed everything.

We stood there, two Alphas, naked and bleeding, staring each other down over a girl we didn't even know. A girl whose name we hadn't even learned before she was stolen.

In the old world, we would fight. We would tear each other apart until only one of us was left to claim her.

But Carlos was my cousin. My brother in arms. We'd fought side by side for over a century. We'd saved each other's lives more times than I could count.

Could I kill him over a woman I'd known for thirty seconds?

Yes, my wolf snarled. Yes, without hesitation.

"Two Alphas," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Sharing one mate?"

The concept was foreign, unnatural. Alphas didn't share. We dominated, we possessed.

"It's rare," Carlos said, his gaze intense. "But not impossible."

He looked at the bag again, then at the horizon where Logan had taken her.

"There are stories," he continued, his voice rough. "Ancient legends of powerful wolves blessed by the Moon Goddess with twin mates. Or of mates so rare they needed multiple protectors."

"Fairy tales," I spat, but my conviction wavered.

Nothing about tonight made sense. Why would the Moon Goddess give us both the same mate unless there was a reason?

"We don't have time to argue about claim rights," Carlos snapped, his Alpha voice rising to meet mine. "Logan has her. And if he figures out what she is..."

"He'll break her," I finished.

The rage returned, hotter than before. It burned through the confusion, the jealousy, the territorial instinct demanding I fight my cousin for dominance.

None of that mattered if she died in Logan's fortress.

I looked at Carlos. I saw the same murderous intent mirrored in his eyes. The same desperate need to protect what was ours. We could figure out the sharing part later. Right now, we had a common enemy.

And Logan had made the fatal mistake of taking something that belonged to both of us.

"We share," I said, the words tasting strange but right. "She is ours."

Carlos nodded once. A silent pact. The kind we'd made a hundred times before in battle, but this one felt different. More sacred. Binding in a way that went beyond pack law.

"Ours," he agreed.

I grabbed the backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. It felt like carrying a piece of her heart. Her scent surrounded me, and my wolf settled slightly, content to have even this small connection.

"We go to Centro Villa," I commanded, my Alpha voice returning in full force. "We get the mercenaries. We get the guns."

The time for subtlety was over. Logan wanted war? We'd give him war.

I turned toward the north, toward the dark fortress of Port Alvarez.

Toward her. I could feel her through the bond now that I wasn't fighting it—fear and confusion and a stubborn spark of defiance that made me want to smile despite everything.

She'd need to be to survive until we reached her.

"And then," I growled, "we paint the streets with Logan's blood."