Lira stood in the clearing, her wolf form bathed in moonlight, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through her veins. Damon was at her side, his presence steady and grounding. The silence of the forest was heavy, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the wind.
The battle was over—for now. But Lira couldn’t shake the feeling that something darker loomed on the horizon.
“You should head back to the packhouse,” Damon said, his voice low, his eyes scanning the treeline. “It’s not safe out here.”
“I’m not afraid,” Lira replied, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.
“I know you’re not,” Damon said, his lips quirking into the faintest hint of a smile. “But strength doesn’t mean taking unnecessary risks. You’ve proven enough tonight.”
She wanted to argue, but the truth was she was exhausted. Her limbs ached, and the taste of blood in her mouth was a bitter reminder of what she’d just endured. She nodded reluctantly, her wolf form shimmering as she shifted back into her human body. Damon handed her a spare shirt and pants he had carried in a small pack, his eyes flicking away respectfully as she dressed.
As the two of them made their way back toward the packhouse, the forest around them felt eerily quiet. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, set Lira’s nerves on edge. The rogue’s words echoed in her mind: “This is only the beginning.”
Damon stayed close to her, his presence a comforting shadow, but she could tell he was just as on edge as she was. His golden eyes scanned the darkness, his wolf barely beneath the surface.
“What do you think they want?” Lira finally asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Damon’s jaw tightened. “It’s not just about you being the last of the royal line. It’s bigger than that. Someone wants to destabilize all the packs, and you... you’re the key to either stopping them or helping them succeed.”
“Helping them?” Lira frowned. “Why would I—”
“Not willingly,” Damon interrupted. “But if they could get to you, control you, or...” His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. If the rogues managed to eliminate her, the fragile unity between the packs would shatter.
Lira swallowed hard, the weight of her new reality pressing down on her like a heavy cloak. She didn’t ask for this—this destiny, this responsibility. But now, there was no turning back.
As they approached the edge of the pack’s territory, the faint glow of lights from the packhouse came into view. The sight should have been comforting, but Lira couldn’t shake the unease that clung to her like a second skin.
“Stay alert,” Damon said, his voice a low rumble. “If anything feels off, find me immediately.”
Lira nodded, though she couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration. Damon was protective, yes, but she couldn’t rely on him forever. She had to find her own strength—her own way to fight back against the shadows creeping into her world.
---
That night, sleep came slowly. Lira tossed and turned in her bed, her mind racing with questions and fears. When she finally drifted off, her dreams were filled with flashes of red eyes, snarling faces, and whispers she couldn’t understand.
But one thing stood out—a shadowy figure standing atop a hill, its eyes gleaming with malice. The figure raised a hand, and the forest around it seemed to wither and die, the life draining from the trees like ink spilling across parchment.
Lira woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was dark, but the faint glow of the moon filtered through the curtains. She sat up, running a hand through her hair as she tried to shake off the lingering terror of the dream.
Something wasn’t right.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. Her wolf stirred within her, uneasy but alert. Without thinking, she reached for the jacket hanging on the back of her chair and slipped it on over her thin nightshirt.
The packhouse was silent as she stepped into the hallway, her footsteps soft against the creaking floorboards. She couldn’t explain what had drawn her from her bed, but the pull was undeniable, like an invisible thread guiding her toward something she couldn’t yet see.
As she descended the staircase, the familiar scents of the packhouse surrounded her—woodsmoke, fresh pine, the faint traces of cooked meat lingering from dinner. But beneath it all was something new. Something foreign.
A scent she didn’t recognize.
Her wolf bristled, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Lira paused at the bottom of the stairs, her senses straining to identify the source of the intrusion. The scent was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A mixture of ash and decay that sent a shiver down her spine.
She followed the scent through the dimly lit hallways, her steps cautious but purposeful. It led her to the back door of the packhouse, which was slightly ajar, the cool night air seeping in through the crack.
Lira’s heart raced as she pushed the door open, stepping out into the darkness. The forest loomed before her, silent and still, but the scent was stronger now, drawing her toward the treeline.
“Lira,” a voice called softly, stopping her in her tracks.
She turned to see Damon standing a few feet away, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. He was shirtless, his muscles taut, his expression a mixture of concern and suspicion.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice low but firm.
“There’s someone here,” Lira replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can smell them.”
Damon’s expression darkened, and he stepped closer to her, his wolf rising to the surface. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The two of them moved into the forest, their senses on high alert. The scent grew stronger with each step, and Lira’s unease deepened. It wasn’t just a rogue’s scent—it was something more, something darker.
Suddenly, a branch snapped to their right, and both of them froze. Damon shifted instantly, his wolf form towering and imposing, his growl rumbling through the night like thunder.
Lira shifted as well, her golden eyes scanning the shadows. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. And then, a figure stepped into view.
It was the rogue leader from before, his red eyes gleaming with malicious delight. But he wasn’t alone. Behind him, the forest seemed to come alive with movement as more figures emerged from the darkness.
Dozens of them.
Lira’s heart dropped as she realized the trap they had walked into. The rogues were everywhere, their eyes glowing like embers in the night. The leader stepped forward, his grin sharp and predatory.
“I told you this was just the beginning,” he said, his voice dripping with malice.
Damon growled, his body tense and ready for a fight. But Lira could feel the weight of the odds stacked against them. They were outnumbered, surrounded, and the rogues showed no intention of letting them leave alive.
The rogue leader raised a hand, signaling his pack to attack, and the forest erupted into chaos.