The first gunshot cracked the night open like a whip.
Elara flinched, but Adrian didn't. He was already moving, a blur of muscle and command as he yanked a silver-edged rifle from the wall and shoved a smaller handgun into her hands.
"Don't point it at me," he growled, loading the rifle with practiced precision.
Her heart thudded. "I don't even know how to—"
"Point. And pull the trigger. You'll learn fast if you want to live."
Before she could argue, the sound of claws scraping stone echoed from outside. Shadows moved beyond the high windows—large, fast, and wrong in a way that made her stomach drop.
A guard burst in, blood on his cheek. "Alpha! Three rogues at the north gate, more coming down the ridge!"
"Hold the line," Adrian barked, his voice a whip crack of authority. "Anyone who steps inside—kill on sight."
Elara's breath came faster as he herded her toward the main hall. "Adrian—what are they?"
His gaze flicked to her, eyes flashing gold. "Werewolves. But not my pack. These are scavengers… drawn by the scent of your power."
Her fingers tightened on the gun. "Because I'm this… Lunar Queen?"
He didn't answer. Not with words. Instead, he shoved open the heavy steel door leading to the outer courtyard.
The cold hit her first. Then the sight of them—shapes shifting mid-leap, fur tearing through skin, jaws elongating, eyes glowing red. The air smelled of blood and snow and something ancient.
Adrian moved like liquid death, his rifle barking silver rounds into the night. Each shot dropped a wolf, but more kept coming, their howls slicing through the air.
One broke through the gate, massive and snarling, snow spraying from its paws as it lunged straight for Elara.
She froze—until instinct took over. The gun kicked hard in her hands, the silver bullet finding its mark in the creature's chest. It crumpled mid-air, hitting the ground at her feet.
Her hands shook violently. "I—I killed it—"
"No," Adrian snarled, yanking her back just as another wolf landed where she'd been standing. "You survived. There's a difference."
The courtyard was chaos now—gunfire, snarls, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air. Adrian's men fought in tight formation, but the rogues kept pressing.
Then, as if the world itself paused, Elara felt it—a heat blooming under her skin, pulsing with the rhythm of the moon above.
Her vision blurred. The snow under her boots seemed to glow faintly silver.
Adrian caught the shift in her scent instantly, his head whipping toward her. "Elara—don't—"
But it was too late.
The light burst from her like a wave, silver and fierce, washing over the battlefield. The rogues recoiled, howling in agony as the glow seared their skin.
Every wolf froze. Even Adrian. His golden eyes locked on her, and for the first time, she saw something other than command in his expression.
Fear.
And desire.