[Ace's POV]
Ray and I pulled on the iron gloves—fingerless, to leave our claws free when we shifted, but thick enough across the palms to block the chains' drain. I grabbed the magical handcuffs and my sword. Beside me, Ray did the same. Then we were climbing down from the wagon, following Philip into the fray.
The two werewolves were massive, their muscles rippling beneath thick fur. They lunged at Philip, claws slashing through the air. He moved like a phantom—there one moment, gone the next—his daggers flashing as he parried and sidestepped, each motion precise as a blade's edge.
Ray ran beside me, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the battle ahead.
"Ace, you're the leader. You're in charge of giving orders," Ray urged, his voice steady despite the chaos around us.
