Serena’s POV

The torches hissed in the night air, flames flickering like anxious whispers. Three war horns had sounded and now the forest held its breath.

Across the perimeter, Damon’s warriors lined the barricades, their eyes fixed on the dark tree line. But it wasn’t their fear I felt it was mine. Not fear of death.

Fear of failing again.

Of doing nothing.

Of watching more blood spill because I once trusted the wrong man.

Damon stood beside me in the tower, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp enough to slice through shadow. He hadn’t said much since I told him I wanted to fight.

Maybe he didn’t believe me.

Maybe he didn’t believe in me.

Too bad. I was done waiting for anyone’s permission.

“I want a weapon,” I said.

He didn’t look at me. “You’ll stay in the cellar when it starts.”

“No.”

That made him turn.

His jaw ticked, like he was trying very hard not to snap. “This isn’t some rebellion. It’s war. You’re not ready.”

I stepped closer. “Let me prove I’m more than just Victor Grey’s daughter. Or do you still think I’m a liability?”

“You’re not a liability,” he said tightly. “You’re a distraction.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

His eyes darkened. “When I’m near you, I think less like a soldier and more like a… fool. My wolf wants to tear the world down for you, and I can’t afford that right now.”

The silence between us pulsed.

Damon exhaled. “That’s why I need you out of the line of fire.”

“Then you’ll never win,” I said flatly.

He stilled.

I took another step. “Your pack doesn’t just need claws. It needs a Luna who stands with them. And they need to see that you trust me.”

I waited for him to argue. To shove me away again.

But instead, something changed in his expression. A shadow softening into something like respect.

Then a growl rolled low in his throat. “Fine. You fight.”

He turned, grabbed a dagger from the weapons rack, and handed it to me.

“But if you hesitate even once, I’ll knock you out and throw you over my shoulder.”

I swallowed. “Deal.”

The battle didn’t start with a roar.

It started with a spark.

Literally.

The east watchtower burst into flames before the first scream rang out.

Victor’s army had come through the marshes wolves, rogues, and traitors alike. A coordinated strike. Tactical. Merciless.

Damon’s warriors met them at the perimeter with steel and fang.

I stayed close to Trey at the southern flank. Damon was already in the chaos, shifting mid-leap and launching into the fray like a shadow set loose.

I didn’t have a wolf form yet. The shame of it had always lingered like a bruise under my ribs. But not tonight.

Tonight, I used my hands, my blade, and the fury in my bones.

One rogue lunged heavily scarred and laughing. I ducked his claws, slashed across his ribs, and shoved my dagger through his side.

He wasn’t laughing after that.

Trey yanked me back just in time to block another blow. “You good?”

“I’m better than good,” I gasped. “I’m angry.”

We fought back to back, bodies moving on instinct, adrenaline replacing fear. Smoke curled across the battlefield, mixing with blood and broken vows.

Then I saw him.

Victor Grey.

At the edge of the hill, standing atop a broken boulder like a self-made king, flanked by loyalists. He hadn’t shifted. He hadn’t needed to.

His voice rang out over the chaos.

“Serena! Come now, daughter, before you destroy what little future you have left.”

Something inside me cracked.

He sounded almost bored. Like this bloodshed was a minor inconvenience.

“I’m not your daughter anymore,” I whispered.

And then I ran.

Straight through the battlefield. Toward him.

I heard Damon yell my name, but I didn’t stop.

Victor stepped down from his perch, arms open like a twisted mockery of a father.

“My girl,” he said.

I stopped ten feet away.

“You used me,” I said.

He raised a brow. “I protected you. Every decision I made…”

“Was for power,” I cut in. “You killed Damon’s family. You sold me to Magnus like a bargaining chip. And now you burn down packs because someone dared take what you think is yours.”

His smile faded.

“You forget who gave you your name,” he said coldly.

“No,” I said. “I just chose to burn it.”

His eyes flickered. “Then you’re no longer mine.”

I tightened my grip on the dagger. “Finally. We agree.”

He lunged.

But I was faster.

The blade met flesh. And though I missed his heart, the blood was real.

Victor howled in pain, staggering back, just as Damon crashed into him from the side in full wolf form. They tumbled in a clash of teeth and fury.

Trey grabbed me, pulling me back as flames lit the battlefield behind us.

—

Later that night, the enemy retreated.

Damon stood beside me in the ashes of what once was the south watchtower.

Victor had escaped wounded, but alive. For now.

The pack was silent, watching as Damon reached for my hand.

He didn’t speak.

He just lifted my wrist and pressed a kiss to the skin above my pulse.

It was the most public, primal gesture of claim he could make without saying a word.

And I didn’t pull away.

The pack murmured in approval. They saw it too.

I wasn’t the enemy anymore.

I was their Luna.

But as the moon rose high and we walked back toward the stronghold, Trey caught up with us his face pale.

“You need to see this,” he said, handing Damon a blood-stained envelope.

Damon opened it.

His jaw clenched.

“What is it?” I asked.

He handed it to me.

Inside was a torn photo.

Of me.

Chained.

Bound.

And a note.

“She’s not your mate. She’s mine. — M.”

Damon’s voice was low and lethal. “Magnus is alive.”

And this time… he’s coming for her.