As a deafening boom echoed through the air, the sound of splintering wood tore through the chaos above deck. Another violent jolt rocked the ship, sending Jesse staggering, his senses reeling from the force of the impact. Ross' grip on his wrist tightened with a desperate urgency, anchoring him amidst the turmoil.

The enemy's cannons relentlessly pounded the galleon, each blast a harrowing reminder of the imminent danger lurking in the shadows of the unforgiving seas. Jesse could feel the icy fingers of fear creeping up his spine, a chilling premonition of the looming catastrophe that threatened to engulf them all. If the Vârcolac didn't take decisive action soon, Jesse feared that they would be swallowed whole by the merciless maw of the ocean's fury.

"W-what do we do?!" he anxiously asked Ross.

"This is a military vessel; they can handle hunters," he answered as he started tugging Jesse back towards his room.

"Well it doesn't sound like they're handling them!" he exclaimed as another canon ball collided with and shook the galleon.

Ross' irritation visibly boiled over, his snarl echoing through the cramped confines of the room as he stormed back in alongside Jesse. With a forceful slam, he sealed them inside, the reverberations of the closing door underscoring his mounting anger.

Taking in sharp, ragged breaths, each exhalation laden with frustration, Ross paced the limited space like a caged predator. "They must have someone on the inside," he said, his voice a venomous whisper that hung heavy in the air, thick with suspicion.

"What?"

"It's the only way they could've known that this ship was transporting me."

"The hunters?" Jesse questioned. "How could they have someone in the Vârcolac? Aren't they all demons?"

"I don't know," he said. "But it's the only thing that makes sense."

Jesse moved towards the edge of the bed, intending to sit down to catch his breath and attempt to calm himself, but as another violent tremor rocked the ship, he froze mid-step, his gaze darting upwards towards the ceiling with a sudden surge of apprehension. The cacophony of the battle raging above deck intensified, each clash and clang of metal reverberating through the hull. It was clear that the guards were struggling to hold off the relentless onslaught of the hunters, and with each passing moment, Jesse's heart pounded harder in his chest, a frantic rhythm of worry and dread.

What if the hunters breached the defences and seized control of the galleon? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, his mind racing with the terrifying possibilities of what might unfold if their enemies gained the upper hand. And what if they found Ross? The mere idea clenched at Jesse's gut like a vice, a surge of panic threatening to overwhelm him as he turned to face his mate, his expression a silent plea for reassurance amidst the rising tide of fear.

A sharp, piercing whistle sliced through the air, and before Jesse could even register the danger, the wall behind him erupted in a deafening explosion. A torrent of wooden fragments and twisted metal shrapnel hurtled through the air, slamming into everything in its path. The force of the blast sent Jesse and Ross tumbling violently, their bodies tossed like rag dolls amidst the chaos.

Agony shot through Jesse as he collided with the surface of the wall, a sharp cry torn from his lips as he struggled to push through the haze of pain. With every fibre of his being screaming for him to move, he gritted his teeth and attempted to rise, each movement sending waves of discomfort rippling through his battered frame.

Through the thick veil of smoke that choked the room, Jesse strained to catch a glimpse of Ross, his heart pounding with dread. "Ross?" he called out, his voice raw and strained from the smoke and the dust that filled the air. Silence greeted his desperate plea, but through the haze, a figure emerged, approaching him.

For a fleeting moment, relief washed over Jesse as he believed it to be his mate drawing near. But in an instant, his instincts screamed in warning, a primal urge to flee seizing hold of him. Trapped between the agony of his injuries and the encroaching threat, Jesse's mind raced, realizing that he had neither the strength nor the time to evade whatever malevolent force was closing in on him.

"Come 'ere," a gruff voice growled.

Someone grabbed Jesse's arms and harshly tugged him to his feet. Instead of pulling him along, though, the man threw him over his shoulder and started carrying him towards the gaping hole in the wall.

Jesse knew it wasn't Ross. He kicked and flailed his arms, trying to escape, but despite the fact that his kidnapper was human, he couldn't wriggle free from his grip. "Let me go!" he yelled and tried to shift into his wolf form...but it didn't work. His wolf didn't respond, rendering him totally useless—as if that was a change, though.

As Jesse fruitlessly kicked and yelled, his captor carried him through the gap and along a wooden catwalk connecting the galleon to the hunter ship. He kept trying to break free, digging his nails into the man's back and biting, but his teeth couldn't break through the guy's leather jacket.

Once the man carried him up onto the deck of his ship, he headed for a door that led below deck. Jesse was starting to feel weaker, but it couldn't be because of his strength waning; he just felt so...fatigued. He didn't stop trying, wriggling around, yelling, and flailing his limbs—

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The man suddenly grunted and stumbled forward, dropping Jesse.

As soon as he hit the deck, Jesse scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but a vicious snarl snatched his attention, and he stopped by a stack of crates and turned to face the sound. Among the battle of hunters and Vârcolac, Ross fought in his wolf form. He pinned down Jesse's captor and mercilessly tore him apart, and then he started mauling the hunters around him.

Relief filled Jesse, but the fatigue was growing, and pain twinged in his leg. He should have healed from the explosion of splinters by now, but when he looked down at his leg, he saw a small syringe sticking out of it. With a sharp breath, he yanked it free, and inside were the remnants of something blue.

Wolfsbane?

Jesse dropped to his knees as the feeling in his legs started numbing. He tried to fight it, watching as his mate fought off the hunters. However, it didn't take long for the Vârcolac to notice the huge black wolf—and they all recognized him, too.

"R-Ross!" Jesse called weakly.

The black wolf swung around, noticing the incoming Vârcolac, who all shifted into their demon forms, adorning huge wings and intimidating horns. Some of them went straight for Ross, leaving their comrades to deal with the hunters, and Ross fought as hard as he could, tearing their wings with his monstrous jaws and slicing their skin with his claws, but they began to overwhelm him. In mere moments, he was pinned under the weight of four demons, and no matter how loud he snarled or how hard he tried to fight, the Vârcolac finally bested him.

"Hold him down!" one of the guards yelled as he took a pair of silver shackles from his belt.

Ross snarled and growled, trying desperately to escape.

Jesse wanted to help—he had to help. He tried to move away from the crates, but he didn't have the strength to climb to his feet, and his body didn't respond to him. His vision was starting to blur, and the world around him spun. The wolfsbane was quickly enthralling him, and it wouldn't be long until it knocked him out.

His mate might not need him, though. Just as the Vârcolac guard was about to attach the shackles, a trio of hunters charged towards them; one of the men threw what looked like a smoke bomb, but after it hit the deck and exploded, a platinum sheen clung to it.

Poison.

The Vârcolac coughed violently as they backed off and away from Ross, who immediately scurried to his paws and lunged at the closest demon. When the hunters reached them, they began fighting the guards, too, and Ross took advantage of the confusion. First, he killed the other Vârcolac, and then he mauled the three hunters.

Ross then hurried over to where Jesse had fallen. "Jesse?" he asked worriedly, looking him up and down in a panic. "What happened?"

He struggled to find his voice, and after several stutters, managed to say, "W-wolf...wolfsbane."

His mate shifted out of his wolf form and tried to help Jesse get up, but before Ross could attempt to scoop him up in his arms, he abruptly fell forward with a pained, angry grunt. He let go of Jesse and swung around, revealing the small, feathered dart fired from a rifle embedded in his back. He didn't bother wasting time pulling it out; he lunged for the Vârcolac guard who'd fired it, and just as the man adorned his wings and horns, Ross grabbed his throat and tore it out in the blink of an eye.

But there were more.

Hunters and Vârcolac.

Jesse was about to ask himself why Ross didn't use the Lure, but he remembered him telling him that he could only use it on people who weren't wearing wolfsbane, and it was highly unlikely that hunters aboard a Hunter's Emporium ship weren't in possession of it.

Ross transformed into his wolf form once more, his muscles rippling with power as he tore through hunter after hunter, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Vârcolac after Vârcolac fell under his relentless assault, but they just kept coming, their numbers seeming endless.

Despite the chaos of battle raging around him, Ross soon found himself the focal point of both factions. Hunters and demons alike abandoned their own skirmishes to converge on the massive black wolf, their weapons and claws poised for the kill.

As another Vârcolac guard, armed with a rifle, descended onto the deck, folding his wings behind his back, Jesse's heart pounded in his chest. He knew that he had to act, to help his mate in any way he could. Desperation clawed at him as he struggled against the wolfsbane coursing through his veins, denying him the transformation he so desperately needed.

With a surge of adrenaline, Jesse attempted to shift once more, but the poison still held him in its grip, mocking his efforts. His voice caught in his throat as he tried to call out a warning to Ross, but no sound escaped his lips. Every muscle in his body screamed with fatigue and weakness, threatening to betray him at any moment.

He felt utterly helpless, trapped in his own body as the poison seeped through his veins, rendering him powerless to aid his mate in his desperate struggle for survival. Ross was out there, fighting for both of them, risking everything to save him from the clutches of the hunters, and all Jesse could do was slowly crumble beneath the wolfsbane.

A sharp pang of agony shot through his chest as he watched the scene unfold before him. The Vârcolac guard aimed the rifle, and the dart found its mark in Ross' side. A strangled yelp escaped the black wolf's throat, but still, he fought on, a fierce determination blazing in his eyes. Yet, with each passing moment, Jesse could see the effects of the toxin taking hold, sapping Ross' strength and resolve.

Desperation clawed at Jesse's insides, threatening to consume him whole. He longed to leap to his mate's aid, to stand by his side and face their enemies together. But he was immobilized, a prisoner in his own body, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. The weight of his weakness pressed down on him, suffocating him with a sense of uselessness and inadequacy.

In the depths of his despair, he couldn't help but feel like a failure, like a burden to those around him. His family's voices echoed in his mind, taunting him with their accusations of worthlessness. And as he lay there, paralyzed and impotent, he couldn't shake the bitter realization that they were right. He was nothing but a waste of space, incapable of even saving himself.

He watched despairingly as Ross slowly succumbed to the darts and his foes, and when he finally collapsed, Jesse saw the hunters and Vârcolac turn on each other again. If Jesse could move, he'd use their distraction to try and drag Ross away; now unconscious, his mate was transformed back into his human body. But he couldn't move, and as the battle raged around him, he slowly slipped away into unconsciousness.

Panic ensnared his racing heart. Did anyone even know that he was there? Would anyone come to rescue him? He had no idea what was going to happen; the only person he could rely on to save him was out cold, and as the world faded away, he sunk into the horrifying realization that either way, he was going to be separated from Ross. After so long, he'd finally found his mate, only to have him torn away from him not even twenty-four hours after the revelation.

And there was nothing that he could do to stop it.