Mag-log inDamien crossed the blood-slicked ground toward Natasha, his legs threatening to give with each step. His side burned where Cole's knife had torn flesh, and his thigh throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache that made every movement a fresh hell.But none of that mattered.She was alive."Can you walk?"His voice came out rougher than intended, hoarse with exhaustion and something deeper. Something that felt dangerously close to breaking.Natasha pushed herself upright, one hand pressed against her wounded shoulder. Blood seeped between her fingers, the bandages she'd managed to fashion now soaked through with fresh crimson. Her face was pale, drawn tight with pain, but her green eyes blazed with fierce determination."I can walk."She took a step forward, then another, each one visibly costing her."I'm not slowing us down."Damien's jaw tightened. Pride and frustration warred within him. Pride at her unbreakable spirit. Frustration at her stubborn refusal to acknowledge her own limits.He
Damien's focus narrowed to a single point.The wolf circling him with murder in his eyes.Cole had changed since their last encounter. The man who had once been a trusted warrior of Shadow Fang now wore his betrayal like a second skin, his scarred face twisted into something barely recognizable. Raw power rolled off him in waves, the kind that came from months of unchecked rage and bitter obsession."You should have killed me when you had the chance." Cole's voice came out rough, hungry. His blade caught the torchlight as he shifted his stance. "That mercy of yours always was your greatest weakness."Damien didn't respond. He'd learned long ago that words were weapons in negotiations, not in combat.Here, action was everything.They circled each other, boots grinding against the blood-slicked ground. The tent's canvas walls shuddered with each impact from the battle raging outside, but neither man flinched. This space had become its own world, a closed arena where only one of them wou
The tent flap tore open once more, and the lieutenant stumbled inside, bloodied and wild-eyed. Her gaze swept the scene, Cole and Damien locked in their deadly standoff, Natasha watching from the periphery, and something dark and hungry twisted across her face."You," she hissed, her attention fixing solely on Natasha. "This is your fault."The lieutenant's blade was already raised as she lunged, abandoning any pretense of strategy. Her eyes burned with jealousy that had festered long before Natasha's arrival. Months, perhaps years, of watching Cole's attention drift toward anything that wasn't her.Natasha barely dodged in time, her wounded shoulder screaming as she rolled across the ground. The knife she'd grabbed felt pitifully small compared to the lieutenant's sword, but she'd fought with less."Thought you could take what's mine?" The lieutenant's voice cracked with fury, her attacks growing wilder, less controlled. "Thought you could spread your legs and he'd just forget about
Natasha's hand closed around Damien's wrist, her grip surprisingly strong despite everything. Her green eyes burned with fierce determination."Wait. I'm not leaving without someone."Damien's jaw tightened."Natasha, we don't have time.""Lyra." The name came out sharp, urgent. "She helped me. She's a prisoner here too. I'm not leaving her behind."The sounds of battle intensified outside. Screams and snarls mixed with the crackle of spreading flames. Damien's body thrummed with the need to move, to get her to safety, but he recognized that look in her eyes.The same stubborn fire that had drawn him to her from the beginning."Where?" he ground out."Eastern tents. Near the supply wagons." Natasha pushed away from his supporting grip, testing her legs. They held. Barely. "She's terrified of the lieutenant. We can't leave her.""Damien!" Marcus's voice cut through the chaos outside. "We've got incoming from the north! More rogues joining the fight!"He made his decision in a heartbeat
Damien crouched in the underbrush at the edge of the treeline, his crystal blue eyes fixed on the rogue camp sprawled below in the shallow valley. The moon hung low and heavy overhead, casting silver light across the crude collection of tents and fire pits. His wolf clawed beneath his skin, desperate to surge forward, to tear through the camp until he found her. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to kill anything that stood between him and Natasha.But he forced himself to remain still. To think. To plan."The eastern perimeter has three guards rotating in a circuit," Kael murmured from his left, the Crescent Moon warrior's voice barely audible above the rustle of wind through the leaves. "Two-minute intervals between passes. There's a blind spot near the supply wagons."Damien nodded, his jaw tight. Natasha's brother had arrived with a contingent of Crescent Moon warriors hours after the ambush, his face grim with the news of his sister's capture. The two Alphas had bar
Natasha lay bound on the rough furs spread across Cole's tent floor, her wrists secured behind her back with fresh rope that bit into her already raw skin. The fibers ground against abrasions left by days of earlier bindings, each movement sending fresh waves of pain up her arms. Her shoulder throbbed where the infection had begun to spread beneath the hastily applied bandages, the skin around the wound hot and swollen. Every breath sent fire racing through her ribs where bruises had bloomed deep and purple.But her green eyes burned with fierce, unbroken defiance.The tent was larger than she'd expected, clearly belonging to someone of rank. Maps and weapons lined one side, organized with military precision. A crude wooden table held papers and a half-empty bottle of spirits, the sharp smell of alcohol cutting through the other scents. The air was thick with smoke from a small brazier, leather from armor and tack, and something darker: blood and desperation, the unmistakable musk of
The Shadow Fang pack house loomed at the end of a cobblestone drive, a fortress of dark stone and ironwork that seemed to drink the fading sunlight. Towers jutted toward the sky like watchful sentinels, and the massive oak doors were already swung wide, spilling warm lamplight into the evening gloo
Natasha surfaced from sleep like a swimmer breaking through still water, slow and reluctant. The first thing she registered was warmth—solid, steady, wrapped around her from behind. Damien's arm was a heavy band across her waist, his breath a slow tide against the nape of her neck. The bond pulsed
The knock came soft, hesitant. A maid slipped in with a tray, steam curling from porridge and tea, her eyes darting to the rumpled bed. Natasha pulled the blanket higher, a flush creeping up her neck that had nothing to do with the heat. The maid set the tray on the small table, curtsied, and retre
Natasha stood frozen for a long moment after Damien’s silhouette disappeared through the velvet curtain. The cold night air clung to her skin, but the heat radiating from her chest—from the bond she refused to name—made her feel feverish. Her wolf, a restless presence she’d always kept tightly leas







