Chapter 67
DEREK
The world narrowed to teeth and fury.
Erebus was in control now–no hesitation, no strategy, just raw instinct. He tore through
the rogues with savage efficiency, blood and fur flying, jaws snapping, claws ripping. This wasn’t the ballroom. This wasn’t ceremony or restraint.
This was war.
And Erebus had been waiting too damn long to be let off his leash.
We lunged forward, jaws locking onto the hind leg of a rogue trying to drag a wounded
warrior toward the hallway. The crunch of bone was followed by a yelp, then silence.
Another threat down. We pivoted, eyes scanning the chaos.
Blood soaked the marble floors. Tables were overturned, glass shattered across the tile like
ice. Wolves–some in human form, others shifted–fought side by side, their growls echoing like thunderclaps in a storm.
Near the far wall, I saw Elder Wren, one of the oldest Alphas in the region–battered but holding his own. His wolf was massive, still broad despite age, his muzzle a grizzled gray. He’d taken down two rogues already.
But now three more were circling him, flanking from different angles, waiting for the
moment he slipped. I tensed, ready to intervene.
But then I saw her.
Beyond the overturned buffet table.
Elena.
My vision tunneled.
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She was bent beside someone–an injured Luna, I realized. Her body crouched protectively, skirts streaked with ash, her arm wrapped around the older woman’s shoulders. She was trying to lift her, shield her.
And behind her, a rogue crept closer. Teeth bared. Hands out. A predator stalking a queen.
Red.
Everything turned red.
NO ONE touched my mate.
I didn’t care that we weren’t bonded anymore.
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I didn’t care that she’d rejected me, or that I’d told myself I was done trying.
The rogue was to Elena now, had yanked her by the hair away from the older Luna she was
helping.
I have never felt a rage so pure and unadulterated.
He put his lips next to her ear, her neck–the place that should hold my mark—and said something that made her twist in his grasp.
Somewhere deep in the fog of the anger, I mindlinked Brock. Cover Wren. Now. I barely waited for his reply before Erebus took over, snarling, muscles coiled like a spring.
The rogue turned to the sound and the instant he saw me, he turned into his wolf.
Erebus and I? We launched.
The air parted around me, a blur of fur and fury. I hit the rogue mid–lunge, knocking him off course, sending us both tumbling across the floor in a vicious tangle of claws and fangs.
He rolled and sprang back to his feet, slashing at my side. I barely felt it. The red mist was too thick. All I could think was: kill him before he touches her again.
I lunged forward, jaws snapping for the rogue’s throat–intent on ending it—when
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another shape collided with him from the side in a blur of motion.
Not just any wolf.
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This one was sleek, white–gold, moving with savage precision. He hit the rogue like a hammer from the sky, all muscle and momentum, tearing into him with the controlled violence of a trained predator.
Ares.
Logan.
His wolf was just as lethal as I suspected he would be–lean and fast, with a flash of cold,
calculating ice–blue eyes that locked onto the rogue with pure, murderous intent.
For a heartbeat, we moved in tandem. Not allies. Not enemies. Just weapons, forged by war and fury, honed to kill.
The rogue snarled, already bloodied, trying to scramble away, but there was nowhere to
run. We drove him back, circling with a kind of silent coordination, forcing him between a toppled column and a jagged piece of wall. He turned at the last second, fangs snapping.
Too late.
Together, we surged.
I went low, ripping into his hind leg, while Ares came down hard from above. There was a
crunch of bone, a strangled scream–and then silence.
Fast. Brutal. Clean.
The rogue’s body crumpled to the floor, a twisted wreck of blood and broken limbs.
I stood over him, breath heaving, blood slicking my claws. My chest rose and fell with the aftershock of the kill, my heart still pounding in my ears.
Ares circled away from the body, his paws soundless on the shattered tile. He was only a few feet away–close enough I could see the rise and fall of his flanks, the fresh scrapes
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along his ribs, the flick of his tail.
Our eyes met.
What passed between us in that instant wasn’t thanks.
It wasn’t camaraderie.
It was silence. Electric. Heavy.
Then he moved.
A shift. Barely noticeable–but unmistakable.
His stance changed. Lowered. Tense.
His muscles coiled. Ears flattened. His tail lifted just slightly, rigid behind him. His lip curled back, revealing those gleaming white canines.
A low, vibrating growl rolled out of his chest like a warning thunder.
He was challenging me.
We had just taken down a rogue together. The battle was still raging. There were wolves bleeding all around us. And this son of a bitch wanted to square up?
Something primal uncoiled in my gut, rising hot and fast. Not fear. Fury.
The fury I’d shoved down to survive this night. The fury I hadn’t had the luxury of feeling -not when my pack was under attack. Not when Elena was in danger.
But now?
Now it surged, demanding release.
He stepped forward.
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Deliberate. Slow.
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I mirrored the motion. One step, claws scraping marble. My body lowered, fur bristling, a growl building in my throat.
His eyes narrowed. So did mine.
And we both knew.
It didn’t matter that the floor was soaked in blood. It didn’t matter that rogues were still
dying only yards away.
This was going to happen.
He wanted to challenge me? Fine.
I’d break him.
But just as I started to move-
Something slammed between us.
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A streak of copper fur. A sudden flash of motion, fast as lightning and twice as fierce.
She hit the floor hard, skidding between our bodies, her claws digging into the tile for traction, her snarl sharp enough to silence gods.
Elena.
Her wolf–Nox–came in low, hackles raised, dander up, daring either of us to move.
She planted herself between us, her body rigid, tail high, hackles raised in a shimmering ridge of fury. Her fangs flashed as she spun first on Ares, snapping her jaws so close to his face he recoiled in surprise. A warning.
Then she turned on me, eyes wild, daring me to make one more move. Her snarl wasn’t just
sound–it was command.
Back. Off.
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I stared at her. At the copper flames of her fur, the steel in her stance, the rage pulsing off
her in waves.
Not afraid. Not even close.
She wasn’t just defending peace.
She was asserting power.
And we both heard it loud and clear.
Not here.
Not now.
Not while she breathed.
Not in front of her.
We froze.
Snarling. Breathing hard. Held in place by the force of her fury.
日
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