The silence after battle was worse than the fight itself.
Snow fell in lazy spirals, soft and deceptive, covering the blood like the night was trying to pretend nothing had happened. Bodies—both wolf and human—lay scattered across the courtyard, steam rising from wounds still fresh.
Adrian stood in the middle of it all, his breath heavy, golden eyes fixed on her like she was a weapon pointed straight at his heart.
Elara's knees trembled. The silver glow that had burst from her chest was gone now, but she still felt it thrumming deep in her bones—alive, restless, like a caged animal that had just tasted freedom.
"What… was that?" she whispered, breaking the silence.
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, his boots crunching in the snow. Every line of him screamed control, but there was a dangerous heat beneath it.
"That," he said finally, stopping a foot away from her, "was you calling down the moon's wrath."
Her lips parted. "The moon's… what?"
His gaze darkened, voice dropping to a near-growl. "Lunar power. The kind only a Queen carries. The kind that can bend every wolf in existence to their knees… or burn them to ash."
She shook her head. "No… I'm just human—"
"You were never just human."
The words hit harder than the winter air. Adrian's hand shot out, gripping her chin—not cruelly, but with the unyielding hold of a man used to being obeyed.
"I don't care who kept you hidden or why," he said, voice low and dangerous. "That power you just unleashed? It's the reason you're breathing—and the reason half the werewolf world will want you dead."
Her heartbeat spiked. "Why dead? If I'm… their queen—"
"Because, Elara…" He leaned in, so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her ear. "Queens mean power. Power means control. And in my world, control is worth killing for."
She swallowed hard, but her voice stayed steady. "Then why aren't you killing me?"
Adrian's hand slid from her chin to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing the rapid pulse there. "Because you're mine."
The words were a claim. A threat. A vow.
Before she could respond, shouts erupted from the far gate—more guards returning with wounded, calling for Adrian's orders. He didn't look away from her until the last second.
"This conversation isn't over," he promised, before turning to bark orders, his voice sharp and commanding once more.
But as Elara watched him—tall, fierce, untouchable—she realized something chilling.
He wasn't just protecting her.
He was preparing for war.