Night fell fast on this bullshit island. Fire crackled low, banked to embers so it wouldn't blind me to the dark. I sat with my back to the rock, knife balanced on my knee, ears tuned to every snap in the jungle.

  Then it came—the howl. Deep, rolling, like thunder trapped in a throat. Not animal. Not any wolf I'd heard in training vids or out in the field. This one carried weight, mana stitched into the sound, vibrating in my ribs.

  Blue glow flickered through the trees—two points, high off the ground. Eyes. Big fucker.

  I stood slowly, knife in hand. Heart rate stayed even—the heal had that perk—no panic spike. But adrenaline hummed anyway.

  "Whatever species of wolf you are," I said low, voice cutting the night, "I'll get stronger. And I'll kill you, you bastard."

  The glow held. Didn't flinch. Just stared back, unblinking blue floodlights pinning me in place. A low growl answered—more vibration than sound—rattled the sand under my boots, made the embers flare for a second.

  Then it moved. Not away. Sideways. Circling slow through the treeline shadow, fur catching moonlight wrong, shimmering like oil on water. Shoulders massive, head low, sniffing the air. My scent? The fire? Didn't matter. It was measuring me.

  I didn't charge. Ops rule one: Don't poke the bear (or wolf the size of a goddamn bear) unless you have backup or a bigger gun. Knife felt small. But the heal felt good. Strong. New.

  The eyes lingered. Long enough I started counting heartbeats. Then another growl—deeper, almost amused. Like it knew something I didn't.

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  The glow drifted back. Melted into the black. Gone.

  I exhaled slow, knife still ready. "Not tonight, mutt."

  But you're marked now. And so am I.

  The next morning the jungle looked less like a postcard and more like a green wall waiting to eat me. I left the lean-to standing, knife in hand, and started scouting inward—eyes peeled for tracks, threats, or anything that didn't want to kill me on sight.

  Didn't take long.

  A paw print in the soft earth near the treeline. Bigger than my boot. Deep enough it could've been stamped by a hydraulic press. Claws the length of my fingers. I froze for a second—actual quiver in my gut, old ops instincts screaming "apex predator." Then I exhaled, forced the calm back in. "Shit," I muttered under my breath. "This bastard is huge."

  Shook it off. Kept moving. No point dwelling—either I get stronger or it gets me. Simple math.

  Deeper in, the undergrowth thinned a bit. Weird plants everywhere: purple-veined leaves, bulbous red fruits hanging like Christmas ornaments from vines. I crouched, sniffed one. Smelled sweet, almost too sweet. "Hopefully these aren't poisonous," I said to no one, half-laughing at how stupid it sounded out loud.

  Took a small bite anyway. What the hell—worst case I puke and learn a lesson.

  Flavor hit first—tart, then honey-sweet. Then the glow.

  Blue light bloomed under my skin like veins lighting up, faint at first, then brighter. Heat spread through my chest, arms, legs. Muscles tightened, not painfully—more like they'd been oiled and cranked to eleven. I flexed my hand. Felt… different. Stronger.

  Tested it.

  Looked left. Nearest tree—thick trunk, solid-looking. I stepped up, cocked my fist, and punched.

  Crack.

  Wood splintered like cheap plywood. The trunk buckled, tree groaned, top half snapped clean and crashed into the brush. Leaves rained down. I stared at my knuckles—no blood, no pain. Just a faint blue shimmer fading already.

  "Holy fuck," I breathed. Half-grin, half "what the actual hell." One bite. One goddamn bite and I just turned a tree into kindling.

  I flexed again, feeling the new strength settle in like fresh armor. Whatever this fruit was, it wasn't normal. And if the island was handing out power-ups like candy… maybe Wolf Fang wasn't the only thing I needed to worry about.

  Or maybe it was exactly what I needed to worry about.

  Should Jax eat another fruit?