The attack began on a night when the forest seemed too still, too hushed, as though every tree and stone knew what stalked in the shadows. The clouds moved fast across the sky, hiding the moon so thoroughly that the mountains looked like hulking beasts crouched beneath a black veil. Inside the lodge, the fire burned in the great hearth, but its warmth did little to soothe the unease threading through the hall. The wolves of Blackridge moved restlessly—checking weapons, sharpening blades, pacing the length of the common room with ears pricked and eyes watchful. Eve sat near the fire, pretending the crackle of flames could steady her nerves, but her stomach was knotted so tightly she could hardly breathe. The pack had been tense for days, since whispers of rogues had reached even her ears, and though no one had explained much, the way Kaelen carried himself like a storm waiting to break told her more than words could.
She felt him before she saw him, a subtle shift in the air that made her head turn. Kaelen stood at the far end of the hall, his shoulders squared, his expression carved of iron. He was issuing orders to two of his warriors, his voice low and steady but carrying like thunder. Even across the space she felt the pull, the tether between them thrumming, demanding she look, demanding she remember what it had felt like when his hands pressed over her wound, when his voice promised she was safe. She dragged her gaze back to the fire, clutching at the edge of the bench, furious with herself for caring, for noticing, for feeling.
Then the first howl came. Long, sharp, filled with warning, it tore across the night from the trees outside and made every wolf in the lodge freeze. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices rose in a sudden clash of urgency. Rowan was already grabbing a spear from the wall, his eyes hard, his easy humor gone. He barked at her without looking: "Stay here."
Before she could answer, the window at the far end shattered. Glass rained in a spray of shards, and a hulking form crashed through, eyes glowing sickly yellow. Eve froze as the firelight struck the beast, revealing matted fur, foaming jaws, and the twisted, frenzied energy of something feral. The rogue hit the floor hard, snarling, its gaze sweeping the room. When its eyes landed on her, she felt the bottom of her stomach drop away.
Kaelen moved in a blur. One moment he was giving orders, the next his body twisted, the sound of bones snapping, skin tearing, fur erupting as his wolf exploded from within him. Black as midnight, huge and terrible, his wolf collided with the rogue in a crash that shook the hall. The two beasts rolled across the floor, teeth snapping, claws ripping wood and flesh alike. Sparks flew from the hearth as they slammed against the stones. The air filled with snarls and the copper tang of blood.
Eve stumbled back, her heart pounding so violently she thought her chest might break. She grabbed for anything she could use and her hand found the splintered leg of a chair, heavy and jagged. She clutched it, her breath ragged, trying to ignore the way her hands shook. Kaelen had the rogue pinned, but its strength was monstrous, its madness giving it speed. With a violent twist it flung him off and lunged again.
Only it wasn't after him. Its gaze was locked on her now, lips peeled back from its teeth in something that looked disturbingly like a grin. Eve's throat closed. It scented her. Chose her.
She raised the chair leg, but she knew it wouldn't matter. It came at her with horrifying speed, jaws wide, breath rank. She screamed, bracing for the impact. At the last instant, Kaelen's wolf slammed into it, knocking the rogue aside so hard the walls shook. They tumbled, snapping and clawing, the sound of ripping flesh filling the air.
She staggered back against the hearth, the heat searing her skin, the fire crackling loud in her ears. She thought it was over—until another shape came crashing through the broken window. This one was lean, scarred, its howl ragged and guttural. Rowan was there instantly, spear in hand, driving it back with precise, deadly strikes. But Eve barely registered it, because the first rogue, thrashing beneath Kaelen's grip, lashed out wildly.
Claws slashed across her arm.
The pain was fire, blinding and searing, and she cried out, stumbling. Her blood spilled hot down her sleeve, dripping fast. She pressed her hand over the wound but it kept coming, soaking her skin, pattering onto the floor.
The moment the blood hit the air, Kaelen froze.
His wolf's head snapped up, silver eyes locking onto her. For a heartbeat the entire hall seemed to hold still. His body trembled, every muscle tight, the sound that rumbled from his chest not a snarl but something deeper, older, primal. The bond surged between them, flooding her veins with heat so strong she nearly collapsed. She could feel his rage, his fear, his desperate need to protect as though they were her own.
Then he moved.
Kaelen tore into the rogue with a savagery that chilled her blood. No control, no restraint—he was fury made flesh. He ripped the beast apart, teeth sinking deep, claws shredding until there was nothing left but a crumpled, lifeless body on the floor. The hall reeked of blood and smoke, the fire snapping high as if feeding on the violence.
He shifted back in an instant, the transformation brutal in its speed. He rose from the wreckage human again, blood covering his chest, his hands dripping crimson. His chest heaved, his breaths ragged, but his eyes—his eyes glowed silver, burning with something so intense she could hardly bear to meet them.
He crossed the space between them in two strides and caught her before she could fall. His hands clamped over her wound, hot and strong, pressing hard enough to make her gasp. "You're safe," he growled, the words hoarse, raw, thick with something more than anger. It wasn't reassurance. It was vow.
All around them chaos raged. Rowan's spear sank into the second rogue's chest with a crunch of bone, other wolves pouring in from outside to join the fight. The hall shook with the clash of bodies and weapons, snarls echoing. But Eve barely heard any of it. Her world had narrowed to the Alpha crouched over her, his blood-streaked face inches from hers, his hands holding her as though he could keep her alive by sheer will alone.
Her blood was still dripping, soaking his fingers, and he trembled with it. She felt the pull in every nerve, the bond roaring now, demanding, undeniable. She should have been terrified, should have wanted to push him away, but instead she found herself caught in the heat of it, her breath hitching when his gaze burned into hers.
Kaelen lifted her without effort, cradling her against his chest. She tried to protest, to tell him she could walk, but her voice died on her lips when she saw his face. He was a man at war with himself, fury and fear and possession all carved into his features. He carried her into the center of the hall, the fire painting them both in flickering gold and red. Every wolf still inside turned to watch, their eyes wide, their whispers a rising tide.
He lowered her gently to the ground near the hearth, crouching over her, his hand never leaving her wound. His voice when it came was not loud, but it rolled through the room like thunder, silencing every whisper, every breath.
"She is mine," Kaelen said. His silver gaze swept across his pack, sharp and merciless. "She is under my protection. Any who question it, question me."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the crackling fire seemed to pause. The weight of his declaration settled over the hall like a mantle of iron. Eve stared up at him, her own breath caught in her chest, stunned by the finality of it. He had claimed her—not with teeth, not with ritual, but with words no wolf could mistake. Before his pack, before the Moon itself, he had marked her.
The bond surged violently in response, flooding her body with heat so fierce she thought she might burn. Her pulse thundered, her vision blurred. She wanted to deny it, to scream that she wasn't his, that this was madness. But when his forehead touched hers, his blood-slicked hand cradling her face, and he whispered so only she could hear—"I will never let them touch you again"—her denial crumbled.
The battle outside raged until dawn. The rogues were driven back, their bodies scattered across the forest floor, their howls silenced. The pack whispered among themselves, some in awe, some in unease, but none dared question what had been declared in the hall.
Eve sat wrapped in blankets by the fire, her wound bound, her body trembling not only from pain but from the storm inside her. Kaelen remained close, never far, his presence as solid and immovable as the mountain itself. She didn't look at him, afraid of what she'd see, afraid of what she'd feel if she met those silver eyes again. But she couldn't ignore the truth.
He had chosen.
And even more terrifying—so had the Moon.